


Revolutionary

by ShiningCity



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: American Revolution, F/M, Historical
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2020-06-03 10:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19462399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShiningCity/pseuds/ShiningCity
Summary: Historical AU: Katniss and her family have managed a living in New York after her father's death at the Battle of Lexington. Despite being a patriot, Katniss wants to avoid the war, but the baker's son Peeta decides to enlist in the Continental army that's now headed their way and asks to write her. She can no longer avoid the war or her feelings toward Peeta and becomes more involved than she ever imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

April 1776

_~Katniss~_

I stood gazing out at the deep blue of the ocean as the waves rolled onto the rocky shore, rushing in swirls of white foam around my bare feet. The water was icy cold as spring had just begun to thaw out the frigid winter, but I didn't even flinch as the water splashed midway up my calf. The sun was finally shining, breaking through the overcast skies, and seemed to smile down upon me.

I looked out across the water and noticed the bustle of activity in New York Harbor. I could see the tall white sails of the ships, stretching to the sky as if they eagerly awaited being taken out to sea. They mirrored my own feelings and I took a deep breath of the salty air before I turned back toward home.

"Where have you been?" Mother asked as I opened the door to our small, modest cabin. It was little more than a shed: a single room with a hearth overtaking most of one wall and the two beds taking up another.

"Just getting some fresh air," I replied, taking off Father's old hunting jacket and hanging it on a wooden peg by the door.

"Not hunting, though," Mother said, gesturing with her head toward the musket resting above the mantle, as her hands were busy crushing herbs presumably for a depleted remedy. Being the only healer in this area of Brooklyn Heights, she did her best to keep her supplies fresh and in stock, especially since we'd heard General Washington and the Continental army were headed this way from Boston. I pushed the thoughts of bloody soldiers and deadly battle aside.

"I thought I might go fishing today," I replied a bit defensively. She had probably meant it to sound like a question, but it came off more as an accusation. I sat down in one of the chairs at the big table Father had crafted when I was a little girl, feeling that familiar, yet vague ache of his absence.

Mother made some kind of noise of acknowledgement but I sensed she didn't approve. We tended to get more when we traded game, not fish, but I felt like being out on the water today. Normally I preferred hunting, but being under the sun and clear sky, floating peacefully in the ocean in Father's canoe sounded more appealing than hiding in the shade of the trees today.

My little sister, Prim, suddenly opened the door to our cabin, hauling a bucket of milk from her goat, Lady. I rose from my chair to help her carry it, but she shooed me away, insisting she could carry it. I shook my head at her stubbornness, but hid it by sitting back down and reaching for the loaf of bread wrapped in cloth on the table. It was the last loaf. I made a mental note to trade with the baker today.

He was usually generous with his trade - even with fish. His youngest son, Peeta, was even more generous. He was around my age, a little taller than me, with dark blond hair and a kind smile. He always seemed genuinely pleased to see me - or, rather, to see what I had brought. Of course, I understood the appreciation for having food to put on the table, but he made it seem like I had won the war against the British single-handedly when I gave him the pheasants, fish or occasional venison. I never expressed my thoughts on this aloud, though, not wanting to deter the bountiful trade. Five loaves of bread was more than a fair trade and usually lasted the three of us a week, if not more.

As Prim began to divide the milk into jars to store in the cellar, I picked up the knife next to the butter dish on the table and scooped some onto the piece of bread I had already sliced. That goat had caused a lot of trouble in the beginning, constantly running off and refusing to be milked, but as I savored the salty creaminess of the butter combined with the sweet, dense bread, I felt grateful for the trouble.

As much as Father was missed, we had done well for ourselves. It had been nearly a year now since he died on the town green of Lexington, Massachusetts. We heard mixed reports on how the battle - if one could call it that - began. Some say the redcoats fired first, while others say the militiamen did. And other reports have, of course, embellished the story, or maybe it just got confused in all the gossip and distance it had to travel before reaching us. But whoever shot first didn't change the fact that eight militiamen had been killed - one being my father.

This winter had been hard without him. He had been the provider of the family. He was a carpenter, having learned his skills from his maternal grandfather, who was part of the Lenape tribe. They were known to make excellent boats called canoes, vessels that easily glided in the water, the sharp point at its bow cutting through waves like a knife through butter. The one Father made was the one I would take out to fish today.

I finished off the last bite of the bread slice, picked up a dried piece of venison and munched on it as I stood from the table and walked toward the door.

I put Father's warm hunting jacket back on and said, "I'm going to trade in town when I'm done fishing. I'll be back by supper."

Mother nodded her head to acknowledge that she heard me, still busy with the herbs and Prim turned to me.

"Be careful, Katniss," she said with a sweet smile.

"I will, Little Duck," I responded, walking over to her to plant a kiss on the crown of her golden head.

I walked out the door and retrieved the fishing supplies in the little shed near Lady's pen, giving her a quick scratch behind the ear as a show of appreciation for her milk. I remembered last summer when I had traded a whole deer carcass for her. I could tell that the farmer thought he was getting a good bargain - Lady wasn't in the best of shape, being a bit malnourished and thus, small for her age. But I was confident between Mother's healing abilities and Prim's tender care, that Lady would be just fine. Obviously, I was glad I had trusted my instincts. She had definitely been a good investment, providing milk that we used to make butter, cream, and cheese, most of which we traded as well.

Gale, Father's apprentice, had even offered to build the shed to keep her warm in the imminent winter. In return, we gave his family a generous portion of the milk every day. Even after he had enlisted in the Continental army under General Washington we continued to share the milk with his mother and three younger siblings. His father had been killed alongside mine in Lexington and that had somehow formed an unspoken bond between us. Since he had begun his apprenticeship with Father, we had gotten along, but after our fathers joined the Sons of Liberty and then were killed, we became indescribably close friends.

I thought about how much I missed Gale's companionship as I pulled the canoe out onto the shore and jumped in, using the oar to paddle out further. The times we shared in this canoe, whether laughing about something his younger brothers did or sitting in companionable silence, it was comforting to know someone was looking out for me.

In the aftermath of our fathers' deaths, we worked together to make plans that would help our families thrive and survive. We were not going to let our families starve to death or lose all they had worked for. Gale and I would hunt for game, we shared the milk from Lady and we traded together in town. That is, until Gale caught the same patriotic spirit our fathers had and joined the Continental army.

He did write letters to his family and to me, keeping us updated on his welfare as well as the state of the war. In fact, that was how I found out General Washington was headed to New York. Gale had written to me about the end of the siege of Boston and that Washington's next plan was to defend New York as he had a strong notion that the British would attempt to set up a base for the Royal Navy at the harbor. I hoped that meant he could visit us, even briefly, but I worried about the trouble this could bring to New York. The worry that more people I cared about would get drawn into the war always plagued me despite my efforts to push it out of my mind.

For now, though, I was enjoying being out on the water, and I put all of my mental energy into catching fish. After a couple of hours, I felt I had a sufficient amount, so I rowed back to shore and then headed toward town with my bag of fish.

After making a stop at Seeder's farm to trade for eggs and Twill's for some linen, I stopped at the bakery. I did my customary two knocks, then stepped back and waited. As the door began to open, I smiled in preparation for the kindness that usually greeted me. I wasn't disappointed as Peeta's eyes fell on me and he smiled his typical warm, almost shy, smile.

"Good afternoon, Miss Everdeen," he greeted me, exiting his home and walking down the two steps so he was on level ground with me.

"Mr. Mellark," I replied in kind.

"Peeta," he corrected with a chuckle. "I feel old when you address me that way."

"Then you should address me as Katniss for the same reasons," I retorted with a smirk. "We must be of similar age."

"Fair enough, _Katniss_." He said my name is if he was tasting a piece of candy for the first time. A bit hesitant at first, but then pleased as the sweetness rolls over your tongue.

I nodded to show that I appreciated his acceptance to address me by my first name then said, "I'm afraid I only have four fish left to trade today."

"Fish? I'm surprised you weren't out hunting in this fine weather," he remarked. The familiarity with which he spoke to me caught me a little off guard.

"The weather is precisely why I chose to go fishing. It's also nice to have a change of scenery every once in awhile," I replied, drawing the fish from my bag.

"Indeed," he said, taking the fish from me, our fingers briefly making contact. I ignored the uncharacteristic flip that my stomach did. The beautiful weather was having an odd effect on my mood. This was the most Peeta and I had ever conversed, but I had to admit he was pleasant to talk with. I felt oddly at ease around him and found myself hoping we would talk more often.

"I've never been out to sea," he continued, breaking me from my thoughts. I noted the hint of longing in his voice. "What do you do if your boat tips over?"

"Swim, of course," I answered, as if it were obvious.

"You can swim?" Peeta asked incredulously, his blue eyes wide.

I realized how rude I must have sounded. Most people did not know how to swim. I was a rare exception. "Yes, my father taught me...before he died." I felt the familiar but brief pang of grief.

It must have showed in my eyes, though, because Peeta's perpetual smile suddenly fell. It wasn't an expression of pity that I saw, but one that truly conveyed his deepest condolences.

"Right," he said quietly. "I had heard that your father passed. I offer my sincerest apologies. I'm sure you and your family miss him terribly."

I nodded, suddenly unsure if I could speak.

"If you don't mind me asking...how did he die?"

I swallowed thickly before I merely replied, "Lexington. He was in the militia."

Realization came over his features and then a very brief look of alarm before he went back to his apologetic look. But I didn't miss his fleeting glance toward the open door of the house.

I was confused for a moment before the reasoning for his look of alarm suddenly became clear to me. His family were Loyalists. I had heard rumors that the Mellarks were Tories, but had never confirmed them. I had assumed it was public knowledge how Father had been killed and neither Mr. Mellark nor Peeta had ever made comments to me regarding their beliefs on the war, but now I was discovering that they had not known Father's cause of death.

I suddenly felt angry.

"Are you a _Tory_?" I practically spat the word.

"I...yes...I mean, not exactly," he fumbled to reply, no longer attempting to conceal his glances toward the open door.

"Thank you very much for your previous trades, _Mr. Mellark_ ," I added with spiteful bitterness as I yanked the fish back from his hands. "But I will no longer be able to do business with you."

With that, I stormed away from him, not glancing back as he called after me. I ignored the unexplained regret I was feeling over leaving him that way and, if I was honest with myself, over not being able to see him again. However, doing business with a Tory when my own father had lost his life fighting against the bloody British felt treasonous to me.

I barged into my home, slamming my satchel on the table, cringing as I realized I likely broke some, if not all, of the eggs I received from Seeder.

"What's wrong?" Prim asked, approaching me and putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. For being only fourteen and four years my junior, she was incredibly good at calming me.

I immediately relaxed at her touch and sat down heavily in one of the chairs at the table. The regret over what happened at the bakery seemed to be weighing me down.

"I'm afraid we won't be trading with the baker any longer," I stated quietly.

Mother stopped stirring the pot over the fire and looked at me. "Why?" she inquired.

"They're Tories," I responded with disgust.

Prim looked at Mother but neither of them had the reaction I expected. I assumed they would share in my fury and maybe utter a few unkind words about the Mellarks or Tories in general. Instead, Mother took a deep breath and stood up straight to address me.

"Not everyone here is a patriot, Katniss," she began quietly. "We've been fortunate so far that the war hasn't reached us, so most haven't felt the need to express where their loyalties lie."

"But it is on its way here now, Mother!" I practically shouted. I'd kept my fears of the war at bay, but now I realized that I couldn't any longer. The Continental army would be here soon, and the redcoats would follow. It was inevitable that war would find us.

"The Continental army could be here any day," I continued, a bit more calmly. "And the people of our town will no longer be silent. We have to make our stand now and make it known that we are patriots."

"But at what cost?" Mother said urgently, her hands flying. "We've already lost your father to this war! Must we lose more? Our home? Our livelihood? Our survival? Do you think that's what your father would have wanted?"

I honestly wasn't sure what Father would want. There was no doubt that he was a patriot. I'd heard him talking with Mr. Hawthorne and even with Gale about the Sons of Liberty and what happened at Boston Harbor. I even remembered his outrage over the Sugar and Stamp Acts when I was only five or six years old. He was hot-headed, a trait I inherited from him, and nothing infuriated him more than injustice. But would he expect us to sacrifice everything to stay true to the patriotic cause? I didn't know the answer. I could only trust my instincts on the matter.

"I don't know what he would have wanted," I admitted, calmly. "But if the war is really coming here, I don't believe we can remain neutral any longer. And if we have to pick a side - it needs to be the right one."

I could see the worry in Mother's eyes as she searched my own. She finally let out a breath and said, barely above a whisper, "You're so much like him."

I was uncertain whether she meant it as a compliment or not, but I chose to believe that she did.

The next morning, I awoke just as the first faint streaks of dawn painted the sky in the east. I decided to hunt this morning. I wanted something more familiar to me in the wake of the change that was bound to be happening.

I dressed in a pair of my father's trousers, donned his jacket and retrieved the musket from above the mantel. I opened the door to our cabin and stopped as I nearly trampled on a bundle that lay on our doorstep.

It was wrapped in cloth, with a letter placed on top. I bent over and picked up the bundle, recognizing the familiar shape of bread loaves wrapped in the cloth. There were five of them.

Feeling a slight twinge of regret, I gently placed the loaves on the table and picked up the letter. It was addressed to me, Katniss, not Miss Everdeen. There could be no mistaking who wrote the letter.

I hesitantly opened it and found it was written in elegant, flowing handwriting.

_Katniss_ , it began.

_Forgive me if this is too forward, but I found that I could not shake myself of the incident that occurred yesterday afternoon. Finding myself in a state of shock after your, shall we say, discovery of my family's loyalties, I was unable to properly explain the situation. I hope that you will allow me to explain with this letter._

_My family are, as you put, Tories, however, I do not share in their position. You see, I have a dear friend by the name of Finnick Odair - perhaps you've heard of him, he was a fisherman - that joined the Continental army several months ago. He has secretly written to me during the time, detailing the events and battles he has witnessed and participated in. His courage and letters have changed my perspective on the war we are currently facing. My family does not know my position. However, with the Continental army on its way, I find that an opportunity is drawing near._

_If you still do not believe that I am of like mind with you, then let this convince you: I will be enlisting in the Continental army when it comes to New York. I find this the perfect opportunity to inform my family of my position, as I am rather cowardly and won't have to face their wrath upon the revelation that their son is a patriot. I think battle with the redcoats will seem like a toddler's tantrum in comparison to my mother's temper._

I chuckled quietly at this, but my fingers trembled a bit as I read the remainder of Peeta's letter.

_As I will be joining the Continental army for an indefinite amount of time, I realized with some regret that I will no longer be able to enjoy the pleasure of your company. To remedy this, I was hoping that you would allow me to write to you while I'm away. If you agree, please accept the loaves I have left with this letter and leave something from your hunt at the back door of the bakery this afternoon. If I find nothing, you may keep the loaves regardless, and I will assume you have declined my request and wish you and your family all the best._

_With deepest regards,_

_Peeta Mellark_

I reread the letter several times, attempting to assess my feelings on it. It seemed that all this time I had assumed Peeta was happy to see me because I brought meat for his family, he had actually been happy, well, to see me. The thought gave me an inexplicable thrill and I couldn't help the smile that spread itself on my face. I blushed and tried to force it away. I folded the letter and stuffed it in the pocket of Father's jacket, then rose from the chair and left for the woods.

The sun was just rising on the horizon, but the forest was still dark when I reached it. It was quiet and calm, the smell of earth and pine filling my nostrils. It normally calmed me, but despite it all, I couldn't force the thoughts of Peeta's letter out of my mind.

If I was honest with myself, the thought of writing to him sounded appealing. I thought of the future our writing could lead to when the war was over, but another thought stopped me in my tracks.

He was going to war. What if he was killed, the way Father was killed? I could hardly tolerate the thought. I barely knew Peeta Mellark, but something in me was drawn to him. Maybe it was the steadiness, the kindness, the warmth, the authenticity, but how could I let myself fall for someone who might not ever return home?

I debated with myself during the entirety of my hunt. I thought I had made up my mind by the time I was done, only two pheasants to show for my time due to the distraction. I had every intention of going back home, but my feet wandered to the bakery. I willed myself to go back home, we could use the pheasants for our own meals. However, my hand was suddenly laying one of the birds on the step, being careful to make sure it didn't seem haphazardly placed there. And then my body finally listened to my insistence and ran back home. But even then I tried to will myself to go back and pick up the pheasant. I didn't need to get attached to someone else that was going to fight the British. I'd already lost my father and now Gale was fighting too.

But I couldn't help the extra thump I felt in my heart that wasn't caused by running, and the wide smile that now seemed permanently set in my face. I undeniably felt something for Peeta Mellark. I just hoped the war ended soon enough, and in our favor, so I could discover where those feelings would take me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my new fic. As you've probably figured out, it's based on events that occurred during the American Revolution. I spent DAYS researching so that this could be as historically accurate as possible, but some things were harder to find than expected, so I apologize if there are any errors. I plan to update once per week, so I hope you stay tuned for more. Leave a review and let me know what you think! I try my best to respond to everyone :) Thanks for reading! Until next time!


	2. Chapter 2

APRIL 1776

~Peeta~

I rolled the dough mindlessly in my hands, trying to resist the temptation to look on the back step of our bakery. It was only just past noon. I couldn't expect Katniss to have left anything from her hunt yet - assuming that she left anything at all. I was afraid to get my hopes up as she might deny my request to write her, but I was hopeful anyway. It seemed to be in my nature.

Fortunately, a few townspeople stopped in to trade, keeping me fairly busy and distracting me from thoughts of Katniss. There were several items a bakery needed to be successful, so I always made sure to be generous to those that produced those items.

The farmers that brought eggs and grain to trade were pretty consistent and pleasant, as we needed their supplies to make the bread. Haymitch Abernathy, on the other hand, was a bit more challenging to conduct business with, as he was nearly always intoxicated. Today was no exception.

"Affernoon, Peeta," he slurred when I answered the back door.

"Mr. Abernathy," I replied. "What can I do for you today?"

"The use-yal." He caught himself on the side of the building when he began to lose his balance.

"I'll be right back," I said, gingerly taking the bottle of rum from him.

As much as my family disliked doing business with Mr. Abernathy, we needed the rum. We did our best to have clean water to drink, however, we used a generous amount of it to make dough, so we always kept rum on hand in case we ran out of water to drink before acquiring more. Conveniently, Mr. Abernathy owned a tavern that shared his name and frequently went to New York Harbor on Manhattan Island to purchase stock for his bar. He usually traded with us once per week, sometimes more, depending on how quickly he consumed the bread.

I retrieved the loaves of bread for him and wrapped them in a cloth, though I doubted he cared how they were given to him. I could probably give him week-old bread and he wouldn't notice the difference.

"Here you are, Mr. Abernathy," I said, handing over the bundle of loaves.

"Thank ya," he responded, shakily taking them from me. "You's should come by me tavern some time."

"Oh?" I inquired, curious as to why he thought I would wish to visit his establishment.

"Lots of young lassies there," he elaborated, waggling his eyebrows. "You'd make a helluva husband to any of 'em."

"Er...thank you?" I said, not quite sure how to respond to his statement.

"Jus' think about it," he demanded.

"I will," I replied with every intention to NOT think about it.

With that, he meandered back toward his tavern. I sighed exasperatedly, shaking my head as I walked back inside the bakery to continue my work.

Father and Mother walked into the bakery as I began kneading a new batch of dough. They had been gone the past couple of days to visit some relatives in Setauket. Mother had been hesitant to leave, assuming I was incapable of handling the bakery business alone. Father, on the other hand, insisted I was more than capable, as I had been working in the bakery since I was merely six years old. Mother had finally agreed to it, wanting to visit her parents and sisters.

I often wondered if Mother wished to move back to Setauket as there were many Loyalists that lived there, including her family. However, business was too good here to move - even she couldn't argue that.

"Looks like everything went smoothly," Father remarked, patting me on the shoulder and looking around. Mother didn't seem to agree as she walked slowly around the room, her eyes surely searching for any hint that I had made a mistake.

"It did," I agreed, continuing to knead the dough and pretending not to notice Mother's scrutiny. "I conducted our usual business, including our trade. Mr. Abernathy actually just stopped by with a bottle of rum."

"Excellent," Father replied, rolling up his sleeves to begin helping with the dough. I smiled gratefully at him.

Suddenly, Mother made a loud noise of disgust. We both turned to look at her and found she had opened the back door.

"I cannot imagine why we continue to trade with that Everdeen girl," Mother said, disdainfully holding up a pheasant by its leg.

My heart lurched and I nearly shouted for joy as I realized Katniss must have left the pheasant. She had agreed to let me write to her while I was away with the Continental army.

"We need the meat for sustenance," Father was saying, drawing me out of my thoughts. "Eating bread alone will not provide the energy that meat does."

Mother sighed exasperatedly, but did not argue further.

"I'll take care of the bird, Mother," I said, wiping my hands on my apron and reverently taking the pheasant from her. She didn't protest as I went through the back door and sat on the step to begin the process of plucking the bird.

With each feather that I pulled from the lifeless pheasant, I allowed myself to consider the possibilities of my future with Katniss Everdeen. If I survived the war, would we begin courting? Would we eventually be married? They seemed safe assumptions to make, but Katniss was so very different from most women. Just going out to hunt or fish was considered radical and improper for a girl, however, the many people of our town with whom she traded, did not seem to have any issue with her lifestyle. Everyone knew that her father had died and that she, her mother and younger sister needed to provide for themselves. Although, I'm sure some people thought the best way to do that was for her mother to remarry. Mrs. Everdeen also seemed to be living contrarily to the norm with her healing skills. I, myself, had gone to her a handful of times to retrieve ointment for burns for myself or someone in my family - usually my two older brothers who were a bit more clumsy than I was.

They were both married now, however, and had moved to Manhattan Island, near the harbor. They had invested together in the rum business and had to monitor their shipments, which was much easier to do from Manhattan. I missed them terribly sometimes, but they came to visit quite often, which allowed me to see my nieces and nephews.

They would always tease me about being unmarried. I was eighteen now, and should be at least close to getting married - which I was obviously not. There had been a number of girls that expressed interest in me as a potential husband, however, my heart had only ever longed for one girl, and now, finally, she might reciprocate my feelings.

For the first time, I began to doubt my decision to enlist. What if I was never able to experience the future I so desired with Katniss because I was injured, or worse, killed in the war? I shook the doubts from my mind. Finnick had written to me in detail about how the redcoats treated the "rebels," as the British called us. They would burn farms, hang the men for treason, and, unfortunately, rape was not uncommon. He also described a prisoner exchange for one of their lieutenants, who had described the treatment he received as "a living hell."

I strengthened my resolve, recalling Finnick's words. The war against the British needed to be won, and I was an able-bodied young man, fully capable of fighting. I needed to join the patriot cause - even if it cost me my life and my future with Katniss.

~~~

I awoke early the next morning, as I usually did. Baking bread was a business that began long before the sun rose. Already wearing a white shirt, I pulled on a pair of brown breeches, tucking my long shirttail into them, and then tugged on some stockings and shoes. However, when I finally walked into the bakery, Father was already there.

"Good morning," I greeted him, going to fetch my apron.

"Oh, good morning, Peeta. You have no need of that today," he grinned, gesturing to the apron. "I thought I would give you a rest today. You did a fine job while your mother and I were away. Why don't you go and sketch somewhere? The beach, perhaps? It's promising to be a lovely day."

It had been months since I sketched. It was not a hobby that Mother approved of, and with the busy nature of the bakery, I rarely had time for it. The pencils I had been given by my brothers for Christmas had, I'm sure, been difficult to find since imports from Europe were becoming more scarce due to the war, but they had regrettably been seldom used. I had to admit, spending time at the beach to sketch sounded rather alluring.

"Are you certain, Father?" I asked out of respectful obligation.

"Of course. Just hurry and be on your way before your mother finds out I've given you the day off," he said with a wink.

"Alright," I replied with a chuckle and went to retrieve my pencils, some paper and my cocked hat.

By the time I reached the beach, the sun had made its cheerful appearance. I had packed a few slices of bread, some cheese and an apple so that I would not have to return home when I felt hungry.

I settled in the thick grass at the edge of the rocky shore, looking out across the bay to New York Harbor. Father's instincts were right, it was a lovely day, indeed. A steady but gentle breeze blew across the water, keeping me cool in the warm sun. A few strands of my hair had loosened from the queue at the nape of my neck and brushed against my cheeks. I quickly untied the queue and redid it, not wanting any distractions while I sketched.

I lost track of time as I sketched the view before me. I vaguely wished I had some way to capture the brilliant colors before me, but oils to paint with were too expensive and hard to come by, so I tried to be grateful for the graphite pencils I did possess.

Suddenly, a shadow fell across my sketch and I started in surprise, realizing someone was behind me. I turned around and felt the breath leave my lungs.

"Hello, Peeta," Katniss greeted me, a shy smile gracing her face.

"Katniss," I replied, scrambling to rise from my place on the grass.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," she said with an apologetic look.

"It's quite alright," I stated. "I just wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Do you mind that I _am_ here?" she asked. Did I imagine the hint of playfulness in her stormy gray eyes?

"Not at all," I said, probably a bit too eagerly.

She blushed and let out a breath of air in what I assumed was a laugh.

"Is it alright if we sit? I've been hunting all morning."

"Of course," I replied, noticing for the first time that she was wearing breeches and a leather hunting jacket. I imagined it was difficult to hunt in a dress and so withheld my judgment on her attire - not that I would ever cast any sort of judgment on her anyway. She was beautiful no matter what she was dressed in.

We settled back into the grass, side by side, but with some space between us. I wanted to close the distance and move nearer to her, but was afraid that would be too forward. We sat in a bit of an awkward silence for a moment before I asked, "How did you find me here?"

"Oh, I went to trade at the bakery today," she began. "I discovered some berries in the woods and thought your family might want to try baking them into your bread. Obviously you were not there, so your father answered the door. I inquired about you and he informed me that you were here, enjoying a well-deserved day off."

"Ah," I replied simply. "Well, I admit I was eager to enjoy this beautiful day out of doors instead of working in the bakery."

She nodded in agreement, her long, dark tresses coming loose of their bread and curling around her face. I knew her father had been half-Indian, which had attributed to her tan complexion, and while some might have considered her atypical appearance undesirable, I believed it had the opposite effect. She stood out among the other pale, fair-haired colonists, her features striking and bold. Her beauty was unmatched as far as I was concerned.

"So what were you sketching?" she asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"Oh," I said, picking up the drawing from where I had discarded it on the ground. "Just the view."

I showed her my sketch a little hesitantly, feeling a bit vulnerable at showing her my hidden talent. She gently took the paper from me, our fingers briefly making contact, and observed it in what I hoped to be awe. Her expression was a bit difficult to read.

"This is beautiful," she finally said, her fingers lightly tracing the delicate lines of the sketch. "I didn't know you could draw."

I dipped my head in appreciation to her compliment. "Unfortunately, I don't get to draw very often."

"Why not?" she asked, her sharp eyes narrowing.

I sighed. "Mother and Father need my help at the bakery. It's quite busy, as you can imagine, being the only bakery in Brooklyn Heights."

She nodded in understanding. "I suppose it is."

I could tell she wanted to add something but hesitated a moment before she finally said, "When you write to me...could you send me drawings as well?"

I was caught off guard by her request and didn't answer immediately, which must have given her the wrong impression. Her cheeks flared red.

"If it's too much-" she began, but I interrupted her.

"Not at all," I explained. "I just...I'm surprised you _want_ me to draw for you."

"You are clearly very talented," she began. "The detail in your sketches is astounding." She absentmindedly traced her fingers over the sails of the ships I had sketched in the distant harbor. "I think I would like to have an idea of what you're seeing, while you're away. That way I can better imagine what it's like. I hope that's alright."

I nodded and boldly took her hand in mind. She tensed up for a moment but relaxed when I ran my thumb lightly over her scraped knuckles - an injury I assumed she acquired whilst hunting.

"Of course, it's alright," I responded meaningfully. "However, I must confess...I was having doubts earlier."

"About what?" she asked. "About...writing letters?"

"No, no," I assured her. "About...enlisting."

Her eyes searched mine and I desperately hoped that my admission didn't make me seem like a coward. However, her eyes softened after a moment and she lightly squeezed my hand. I felt my heart thump and my stomach seemed to somersault.

"Why?" she asked quietly.

I searched her eyes again, wondering if I could be honest with her. It seemed, however, that she was the kind of person to see through any fabrication I told. She was strong-willed, intelligent and strong, lying to her would be utterly stupid, so I settled for the truth.

"Because I...I don't want to be apart from you," I admitted breathlessly, holding her gaze.

She looked away after a moment, that same lovely blush blooming across her cheeks again.

"Peeta," she finally began after an awkward beat passed. "You must know that I'm not very good at these kinds of things."

"What things?"

She looked frustrated for a moment before replying, "Whatever it is that lies between us."

"Which is?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow. Did she feel something for me too?

"I don't know," she said. "I only know that I felt... _something_...when you asked to write to me. We hardly know each other and yet, I'm finding that I wish to know you more. I suppose that's why I sought you out today."

I noticed she hadn't let go of my hand the whole time she spoke and that I had involuntarily moved closer to her.

"I would like to know you more as well," I began. "I'm only sorry it took me this long to express that to you."

She gave me a small smile. "I am too."

We spent the next couple of hours becoming more familiar with each other. At first, we were both a bit timid and shy to ask questions of each other, but after a little while we became more confident and found ourselves smiling and laughing often.

I discovered that her favorite color was green, that she not only went to the woods to hunt, but to calm her soul as well. She told me more details of her father and his death, and how she and her family had worked together to maintain their livelihood. She told me of her father's apprentice, Gale, and how he was currently in the Continental army as well. I wondered aloud if he was acquainted with my friend, Finnick.

Talk of the army brought our conversation to a slow halt. I realized with a lump in my throat, that enlisting and leaving was going to be much more difficult than I initially thought. Getting to know Katniss was only making it more unbearable to leaving.

Suddenly, we heard footsteps behind us and turned to see who had come.

"Speak of the devil…" I muttered in surprise as I rose from the ground.

"Peeta!" Finnick greeted me.

"Finnick! What on earth are you doing here?" I asked incredulously. I couldn't help but notice he was wearing his army uniform. The deep blue fabric of his coat contrasted sharply with the white linings and buttons.

"Did you not receive my letter?" Finnick asked, embracing me warmly. "I wrote the Continental army was on its way to New York."

"Yes, but to Manhattan, not Long Island," I replied, pulling away and holding him at arm's length.

"You are correct," he began. "We are stationed in Manhattan to defend the harbor, but General Washington would like to begin moving troops to Brooklyn Heights as well. I was fortunate enough to be one of the first across the ferry."

"Well, it is good to see you, my friend," I said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Finnick suddenly seemed to notice Katniss for the first time.

"My apologies, miss, but I do not believe I have made your acquaintance," he said in his charming voice, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. The gesture made me wary, but upon seeing Katniss's bewildered look, I nearly laughed aloud.

"Forgive me, Finnick," I interjected, stifling a chuckle. "This is Miss Katniss Everdeen."

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Everdeen," Finnick stated kindly. "Are you perhaps related to the Everdeen that was killed in Lexington?"

Katniss's countenance was a mixture of surprise, pride and grief as she replied, "Yes, he was my father."

"My deepest condolences," Finnick said, bowing slightly. "Your father's bravery and courage, as well as the rest of the militia that fought in Lexington and Concord, are held in the highest regard in the Continental army. It was their patriotic spirit that finally ignited this revolution. I hope this knowledge can be of some comfort to you."

"It is," Katniss stated quietly, her eyes shining with tears. "Thank you."

A beat passed as Katniss collected herself, and then she said, "I'm assuming you are Finnick Odair?"

"I am," he replied, beaming.

"Peeta has told me about you and the letters you've written," Katniss explained. "In fact, he has shared with me that it is your patriotic spirit that has encouraged him to enlist."

Finnick looked surprised but recovered well. "Is that right, Peet?" I nodded and strengthened my resolve to enlist. I would not change my mind now. "When?"

"As soon as possible," I replied, my mouth feeling dry.

"I can go with you tomorrow," Finnick replied, putting a steady hand on my shoulder.

I glanced over at Katniss and thought I could see some sadness lurking in her eyes.

"I should be getting home," she said quietly.

"I will walk with you," I responded. "I'll be sure to find you later, Finnick. It's good to see you again."

"You as well," he replied. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Everdeen."

"The pleasure is mine," Katniss responded graciously.

As we walked toward the Everdeen homestead, we remained mostly silent, both of us feeling the weight of the war on our shoulders. A part of me hoped she would ask me to refrain from enlisting, but I knew she would never do that. She was a patriot as I was and believed strongly in the cause.

"I enjoyed myself today," Katniss said, breaking the silence. "I'm looking forward to exchanging letters with you."

She smiled shyly at me.

"As did I. I hope we have more time in each other's company before I am sent somewhere else and we are forced to only share words on paper."

She nodded in agreement and then stopped when her home came into view.

"Thank you for walking me home," she began. "If you are truly enlisting tomorrow, will you come to say goodbye before you leave?"

"Of course," I said, putting a hand tenderly on her arm. She shivered slightly at my touch. "I will see you tomorrow."

"Do you promise?" she asked, surprising me, which was becoming quite common with her.

I chuckled lowly and moved a little closer to her, our noses nearly touching. On the eve of enlisting into what could very possibly be my death sentence, I was finding it difficult to ignore my longing for her. I wanted to hold her in my arms, feel the heat radiate from her small body, kiss her full lips and hear her breathing hitch.

"Don't you trust me?" I asked, barely above a whisper.

I could see her throat bob as she swallowed thickly. Before I had even chosen whether to kiss her or not, she was kissing me. Her lips molded gently into mine as I returned the kiss, taking care to let her lead. I felt my heart thumping in my chest and wondered if she could feel it against her chest that was now pressed to mine.

The kiss only lasted for a few seconds, but it was enough to tear open a window into my heart and soul, sending images of a future I so desperately hoped for through my befuddled mind. When we pulled away, her eyes remained closed for a moment longer as if she was savoring the feeling of the kiss and storing the memory in a safe place in her mind. At least, that was what I had done. I vaguely wondered if she felt what I had during the kiss.

When she finally opened her eyes, they were beautifully dark and stormy, threatening to draw me into their depths and never let me out again.

"I trust you," she said simply in answer to my forgotten question. "I'll see you tomorrow, Peeta."

She smiled sheepishly at me, and then walked briskly inside her home, leaving me speechless, weak-kneed and elated just outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the second chapter! I know things are moving a bit slowly, but I promise it will start to pick up very soon! Also, I wanted to note that I used the term "Indian" instead of "native-American" purposely since that was the term used during this time period :)
> 
> And thank you all for your reviews and feedback! I do my best to respond so keep 'em coming! Until next time!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD

Chapter 3

LATE APRIL 1776

_~Katniss~_

I must have looked quite guilty when I walked into my home, but I couldn't prevent the grin that was overtaking my face. If Mother noticed, however, she didn't speak of it. Prim, on the other hand, seemed to suspect something. I assumed she would wait to ask me about it until Mother went to sleep.

As we ate supper, I continually caught myself thinking about the kiss I had shared with Peeta. Part of me still didn't quite seem to believe that I had actually initiated it. I had informed Peeta myself only hours earlier that I was not good at these sorts of things, yet I had seen the longing in his eyes mirroring my own desire to kiss him and, as I was not the patient type, I took it upon myself to act.

Perhaps this uncharacteristic behavior was due to his upcoming enlistment. While we had been acquainted with each other since we were children when he and his family had first moved from Setauket, I regretted rather deeply that we were only now getting to know each other better. Judging by the look on his face after I kissed him, I sensed he felt the same.

I was right in assuming Prim would question me once Mother fell asleep. Prim and I shared one of the two beds in the cabin, making it easier to quietly whisper to each other in the night if we struggled to sleep or just wanted to have sisterly conversations.

"What happened while you were out today?" she whispered bluntly.

I could feel myself blushing already and hoped she couldn't tell in the moonlight streaming in through the window by our bed.

"I saw Peeta," I replied simply.

"The baker's son?" she asked.

I nodded, turning more toward her so my voice wouldn't carry and reach Mother's ears.

"That's not unusual for you to see him," she began. "Is something more going on?"

I sighed. "You could say that. He's going to enlist in the Continental Army and he asked if he could write to me."

I could see Prim's blue eyes, that she inherited from our mother, widen in surprise and anticipation.

"What was your response?"

"I agreed," I said, suppressing the odd urge to giggle. What was happening to me?

"Katniss!" Prim exclaimed quietly and I shushed her. She lowered her voice. "That's wonderful! He is so considerate...and handsome! He would make an excellent husband!"

I felt myself blush again. I was desperately trying not to think much of the future yet - he was enlisting tomorrow, after all.

"I suppose," I replied finally.

I could see Prim roll her eyes at my stubbornness. "Is there more?"

I glanced at her and hesitated before answering, "We kissed."

Anticipating her exclamation of excitement, I stifled her mouth with my hand. She licked my palm and I drew my hand away quickly, but couldn't suppress the thrill I felt upon revealing my secret.

"What was it like?" she asked, big blue eyes begging me for details.

"You're too young for this conversation," I dismissed her question, rolling onto my back.

"I only meant, did you like kissing him?"

I looked at the bright moon through the window and answered, "Yes. I did."

XXX

The next morning, I set out for the woods again, hoping to catch a deer this time. However, by the time I had estimated it to be around noon, I hadn't seen a single one. I had seen other game but had chosen to leave them be, not wanting the musket shot to spook any deer that may be nearby.

I finally climbed down from the tree I had been perched in for several hours and made my way to one of the many sweetwater streams that fed into the nearby bay. I could feel the sweat trickling down my back beneath the warm layer of Father's hunting jacket and was just thinking I would remove it, when I finally spotted a doe across the water.

She was downwind from me and hadn't spotted me in my crouched position. She must have been feeling the heat of the day as well, for she tentatively left a cluster of brush and slowly walked toward the stream. Being careful not to make any sudden movements, I very slowly drew my musket up toward my chest, putting the butt of it against my shoulder. My finger was on the trigger, waiting for the perfect shot, when suddenly, two spotted fawns appeared out of the brush from behind the doe.

She waited patiently as the made their way towards her on wobbly legs. When they reached her, she gently corralled them toward the stream where she waited her turn as they took long, refreshing gulps of the cool water. I could no longer bear the thought of leaving these two young fawns without their mother and carefully lowered my musket.

I thought of my own mother and how things had changed since Father was killed. While she continued her own business of selling and providing remedies and herbs, it was as if all of her joy had died along with my father. Conversations were stiff, any sort of affection was nonexistent, and tensions were high, assuming she could sense the resentment I felt toward her. Nonetheless, having a detached mother was better than having none at all.

Finally, the doe led her fawns away from the stream and back into the brush. I stood up and stretched my back; it had been starting to ache from crouching and remaining still for so long. I had just decided to find another source of meat when I heard a voice from behind me.

"You're getting soft, Everdeen."

I spun around to find Gale Hawthorne standing before me, a sly smile on his face.

"Gale!" I exclaimed, running to him and embracing him tightly, propriety be damned. "What are you doing here?"

"General Washington allowed a few of us from the area to visit our families for a couple of days. I know we're not quite blood-related, but I consider you to be my sister as much as Posy," he said, referring to his six-year old sister.

I smiled, grateful for his heartwarming words and his health. He looked well, perhaps even a bit taller and broader in the shoulders. He wasn't wearing his uniform, but a loose white shirt and long brown pants, similar to what I was wearing. I realized with sudden clarity that we might even pass as blood relatives. His mother was half-Lenape like Father had been, so our complexions and hair were darker than most of the other colonists.

"Well I'm glad to see you," I said. "Maybe you can help me catch something. I've been here for hours and those were the first deer I've seen."

He laughed and replied, "Getting a bit out of practice without me here?"

I scowled at him. "No. I just...I couldn't shoot her," I said quietly, referring to the doe.

Something softened in his features and he held his hands open for the musket, which I readily placed in his hands.

Before long, he had caught a few pheasants and rabbits. He helped me carry them as we left the shaded canopy of the forest. As we walked toward town to trade, we swapped stories of what had been going in each of our lives since we last saw each other. He told me more details of battles he had been a part of and what life was like in the army. He told me about General Washington and his undeniable patriotism and commanding presence. I discovered that he knew Finnick, which led us to the conversation about Peeta.

"You remember the Mellarks?" I asked him, a bit apprehensive to share the news.

"The bakers? Of course."

"Well, you know their son, Peeta." He nodded and I continued. "He is enlisting in the army today."

"Is that so? I'd always heard rumors that the Mellarks were Tories." Gale very nearly spat the word, just as I had when I first confirmed this with Peeta.

"Well, they are, but Peeta informed me secretly that he does not share their feelings. He is actually good friends with Finnick," I explained.

"Finnick is a good man," Gale interjected.

I nodded. I had only barely met Finnick a day prior but was inclined to agree with Gale's statement.

"Anyway," I continued. "Peeta asked if he...if he could write to me while he's away."

Gale's dark eyebrows raised and his eyes grew wide in surprise. "Did he?" he asked. "Well, what did you say?"

I swallowed and informed him that I had agreed. Gale looked thoughtful, his eyes set ahead of him as we continued to walk.

"Catnip," he finally said, referring to me by the childish nickname he'd given me years before. "You must know that I would never dream of telling you what to do."

I swallowed thickly, awaiting his elaboration.

"But this war," he continued. "It's bloody and it's taken its toll. I should have been more honest with you."

I could feel my heart begin to race when he suddenly stopped and looked me dead in the eye.

"What do you mean?" I asked warily.

"When I told you it felt right to be part of the patriot cause, I was being honest. However, I should have also told you...that it's utterly horrifying. The blood, the screams, the crying, the broken limbs and mangled bodies," he closed his eyes briefly, perhaps to push away the images that his words conjured up. "It's enough to rattle even the bravest of men."

"I still don't understand what -"

"Katniss, Peeta is probably going to die," Gale interrupted me bluntly.

I stared at him, feeling an overwhelming sense of melancholy, and then a rush of anger, though I knew the anger was misplaced when Gale was only confirming to me what I'd been attempting to deny.

I could see regret in Gale's stormy gray eyes that matched my own, but his jaw remained firm. "I'm sorry to be so straightforward, Katniss, but after losing your father...I would hate to see you go through that again."

I lowered my gaze and tried to focus on the green pushing through the top layer of dead, brown grass. I felt Gale's large, warm hand on my arm, squeezing comfortingly. This small gesture seemed to crack something open in me and my vision grew blurry as tears filled my eyes.

"What do I do, then?" I whispered, looking up at him to see sympathy overtake his facial features.

He sighed. "Truthfully, if you care about him this much...beg him not to enlist."

I looked at him incredulously. It seemed wrong to ask Peeta not to enlist. I believed in the cause as much as anyone...but I didn't want Peeta to die for it.

"It might already be too late…" I said in despair.

Gale grabbed my arm again. "Let's hurry."

XXX

We rushed to the bakery, our forest haul forgotten on the ground; we didn't want anything slowing us down. When we reached the back door, I rose my fist to knock but stopped short when I heard screaming on the other side.

I looked back at Gale in confusion, for it was loud enough that he heard it too. He narrowed his eyes and looked at the door, trying to discern what was happening within.

It was Mrs. Mellark screaming. From the sounds of it, she was throwing things as well. There were distinct thudding noises as objects hit the floor, punctuated by the occasional shattering of glass. I looked to Gale again in alarm and backed away from the door. It was a good thing I had moved, for suddenly, the yelling grew nearer and I distinctly heard, "Get out of my sight!" before the door was flung open and Peeta came stumbling down the steps. The surprise of seeing Gale and I there didn't even seem to register on his face as he already appeared as alarmed as he could be.

Mrs. Mellark stood in the doorway, holding her position above us as if she were superior. She looked at Gale and I standing there, now alongside a bewildered Peeta, and her face somehow grew redder.

"Filthy rebels!" she yelled and spat at our feet. Then, she slammed the door, the unmistakable sound of the lock sliding into place after.

We stood there for a moment, all in a bit of mild shock before it suddenly dawned on me that we were too late. Peeta had enlisted.

XXX

Before any of us spoke a word, I embraced Peeta, once again ignoring propriety, yet hoping to bring him some comfort. He squeezed me back tightly, restricting the air to my lungs. I felt his head drop onto my shoulder and his lips landed on the side of my neck as his nose tickled the fine hairs at the nape of it. It wasn't a sensual hug, but I felt warmth blossom in my cheeks just the same.

When we parted, Peeta seemed to finally notice Gale. I introduced them to each other quickly then, not wanting Peeta to have any false ideas of who Gale was to me. He seemed to relax a bit after Gale added that he and I were practically kin, and "with both of us having Lenape blood, we might actually be," he had said with a chuckle.

Finally, we came to the matter at hand. Peeta had enlisted, had told his parents and now had nowhere to stay.

"When do you have to report to Manhattan for training?" Gale asked.

"Not for a few days," Peeta replied. "However, I anticipated this reaction, so I'm staying with Finnick and his mother."

"Katniss shared that you knew Finnick Odair. He's a good man, and a good soldier," Gale said.

Peeta nodded. "He's a good friend, as well."

"Well, I'm relieved to know you have a place to stay. I was worried you'd have to sleep in the woods," I chimed in with a teasing smile.

Peeta let out a burst of air. "I think I'd have better luck fighting the British with a loaf of bread."

Gale and I laughed at his joke, but in light of our earlier conversation, we shared a worried glance.

We walked with Peeta to Finnick's home near the docks. His father had been a fisherman before he was killed in the war, and apparently Finnick had taken up the practice before he joined the army. Peeta informed me that, though Mrs. Odair was also skilled at fishing, Finnick made sure she would be looked after, so Peeta and a few other friends in town checked on her nearly every day.

"That's kind of you," I stated, grinning warmly at Peeta.

He shrugged. "I assume any decent person would do the same."

I smiled at his humility. In a time where trust was growing rarer by the day, loyalties were shared discreetly and neighbor could turn against neighbor at any moment, it was refreshing to know good people like him still existed.

After we reached Finnick's house and the situation was explained, though as Peeta had said, he had expected this and already made arrangements with Finnick, Gale departed for his own home and Finnick went back inside to give Peeta and I a moment alone.

"So you leave in a few days." It was more of a statement than a question, and I worried that Peeta had perceived the slight cracking in my voice.

"Yes, but I won't be far. Just across the bay. Maybe the war will be won soon and I'll be able to come see you."

I think we both knew that was a naive statement, but neither of us said so. I merely nodded and stated, "Well, let's take advantage of these next few days."

Peeta smiled, his mouth curved in a crooked, almost shy, way. "What did you have in mind?"

"I thought I might take you out in my father's canoe" I suggested.

Peeta's eyebrows knitted together in worry. "The canoe? Is that the Indian boat?"

"Yes. My father made it himself."

Recalling that Peeta couldn't swim, I added, "Don't worry. It's very sturdy. He learned his woodworking skills from his Lenape relatives. They are very precise and patient with their work, as they don't want to waste anything they believe the land gave them."

Peeta seemed to relax a little. "Maybe you could teach me how to swim as well."

I thought for a moment. "I believe that can be arranged. I know of a few places in the woods that are perfect for learning to swim."

"Excellent. I'm looking forward to it."

I smiled. "I better be getting home. I've been away since before sunrise. I don't want to worry my mother and Prim."

He looked a bit disappointed but nodded in understanding. "I'll see you tomorrow, though?"

"Yes, meet me at the beach near my home at sunrise," I instructed, squeezing his hand, before letting go and beginning to walk away.

"I will be there," he promised.

XXX

The next morning I awoke without the usual grogginess of sleep. I was eager to begin the day, considering it would start with Peeta in a canoe. I dressed, packed some bread and cheese in a small basket, gathered my fishing supplies and headed to the nearby shore.

I could see Peeta was already there as I approached, his silhouette outlined in a golden halo from the rising sun. He turned when he heard me approach.

"Good morning," he greeted cheerfully.

"Good morning," I replied. "Are you ready to finally get out on the water?"

He shivered a little. "As ready as I can be. I'm a bit nervous, to be quite honest."

"You'll be just fine. The canoe won't tip," I reassured him.

He nodded and then helped me get the boat into the water. I put all of my supplies onto the dry floor, and then instructed Peeta on how to drag the canoe in and then jump into it. He managed it remarkably well, but now came the tricky part of the oars. I had placed myself in the back so that I could control the direction of the boat, and considering that Peeta was much stronger than I was, he would do much better in the front where his propelling would be of more use.

Once he got the hang of it, we were gliding easily away from the shore, but I was careful not to go too far, lest the tide sweep us out too far.

"What do you think?" I asked Peeta as we rested the oars on our knees for a few moments.

"It's lovely out here," he answered, taking in the sunrise glistening off the gentle waves that seemed to caress the canoe. "I understand why you prefer it out here on warmer days."

The ocean breeze seemed to pick up at his words and blew through his loose hair. I must have been admiring his profile longer than I realized, because he suddenly turned to me with a questioning look. I blushed a deep shade of red and began to busy myself with the fishing line.

He actually understood the basics of fishing already, having been friends with Finnick for years and gone out several times with him in his boat, so I didn't need to explain much. Before long, he had caught several fish, which we placed in a net I had brought with me, their slick silver bodies reflecting rays of sun as they wriggled to break free.

Peeta and I enjoyed each other's company, and he kept me laughing nearly the entire time. It helped in forgetting that he was leaving in a few days. I found myself wanting to draw closer to him several times, but restrained myself, not wanting to rock the canoe and alarm him.

As the sun approached its zenith, we grew increasingly warm. I could see Peeta's hair sticking to his forehead from sweat, and could feel my own face glistening.

"I think we have enough for today," I said, gesturing to the full net below me. "Let's head to the stream over there."

I pointed to the mouth of a stream that opened from its path in the forest to the bay where we were now. I was familiar with the stream and knew the current wasn't too powerful to row against, especially with Peeta's strength. He immediately obeyed, probably looking forward to cooling off in calmer waters. Once we reached the stream, the shade of the trees fell over the canoe and we breathed audible sighs of relief.

"You can tell summer is approaching," he remarked as he slowed his paddling down. "It's getting warmer by the day."

"It is," I agreed. "Still up for a swim?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "A swim sounds heavenly at the moment."

I chuckled and instructed him to keep paddling until we reached a narrow part of the stream that was blocked by rocks. We rowed to the shore and pulled the canoe with us, settling it safely on the shore and pulling the basket of food out.

We sat down on the lush grass and devoured the hearty bread, enjoying the respite. We were quiet as we ate, listening to the sounds of water over rocks, birds chirping in the trees and wind rustling the leaves. I glanced over at Peeta to see him taking all of this in thoughtfully, as if he were finally understanding why I relished coming to the forest as well.

"Finished?" I asked as he chewed his last bite of bread and cheese.

He nodded with his mouth full. "Teach me to swim."

I stood up and offered him a hand, which he took before rising and following me to the part of the stream past the dam of rocks. The stream widened out here and was deeper due to the dam. The water wouldn't reach above our heads, but it rose to about chest-level for me, so I figured it was a good place to begin. Maybe someday we could swim in the ocean. If "someday" was in our future…

By now, Peeta had to know that I wasn't one to adhere to social norms, I was a woman wearing pants after all, but I was not inclined to swim in them. Nevertheless, when I shrugged out of my shirt and breeches, revealing the only piece of female clothing I was wearing - my shift - Peeta's mouth dropped open and he instinctively looked away.

"What, you didn't think I was going to swim in my clothes did you?" I asked with a laugh.

"I...I hadn't given it much thought, really," he stammered, face scarlet.

I rolled my eyes and then walked into the cool water, wading in up to my chest. The dirt beneath my toes and the refreshing temperature soothed my aching muscles instantly. I looked back to shore where Peeta had remained, still not looking at me directly.

"Peeta, come on. You can barely see anything below the surface anyway."

"It's just...what if someone sees us? Your reputation would be ruined!" he protested.

"Let me worry about my reputation," I stated evenly. "It can't get much worse anyway. I know how to shoot a musket, how to hunt and fish. I'm a patriot, I wear pants and native blood runs through my veins. I don't much care for other people's opinions."

My argument must have convinced him, for he finally looked me in the eye, his face still tinged pink - but perhaps that was from the sun exposure.

"Alright," he finally said, tugging off his own breeches and pulling his shirt over his head, leaving him in only his white drawers that just reached his knees.

I did my best to avoid staring, but found my eyes were drawn to his bare torso as he made his way into the water. I had seen naked men before when they had come to my mother for healing - but never like this.

His chest and shoulders were broad, his arms toned with muscle from all the lifting and kneading he performed at the bakery. His stomach was flat and I was surprised to see hair on his navel that was darker than the blond hair upon his head. When all of this was submerged up to his chest, he looked at me in anticipation.

I reminded myself that I was teaching him to swim, so we began. I taught him how to use his arms and legs to propel himself in the water and how to stay afloat. I made him practice, placing my arm loosely under his belly to keep him in place. I could feel his warm heat radiating into my arm and resisted the urge to embrace him.

After I was satisfied that he could at least prevent himself from drowning, we began to leisurely swim. He even began swimming underwater. At one point, while he did this, I lost sight of him. The water was a bit too murky to see if something was not in immediate range. My eyes scanned the water, searching for him, when suddenly, I felt strong arms wrap around my legs from behind and pick me up. Squealing, I fell over into the water, submerging for only a moment. I came back up spluttering and trying to catch my breath, more out of surprise than lack of oxygen.

"Peeta!" I scolded teasingly, splashing him.

He shielded his face from the onslaught of water and splashed me back. A few more minutes of this and suddenly our hands were on each other, trying to push the other underwater playfully - until it wasn't so playful anymore.

We stopped abruptly, face to face, our bodies pressed against each other and our shallow breaths bursting in the space between us. Droplets of water ran down Peeta's neck in rivulets and I was mesmerized by the way they slid over his skin. His hand on my own neck, brushing my undone braid aside, raised goosebumps on my flesh.

He must have noticed, and our eyes met in a heated stare. He didn't test my patience this time: he was suddenly leaning in and kissing me fervently. Our wet lips slid against each other, making the kiss that much sweeter.

His hands cupped my face to keep me in place, so passionate was this kiss. Our tongues had already found each other and were caught up in a frenzied dance. Our breathing was hot, heavy and shallower than before, but air seemed an insignificant need compared to what I needed at the moment.

As my arms wound around his neck, the buoyancy of the water made it easier to wrap my legs around his waist. With the little clothing we each had on, which covered almost nothing at this point due to the water, there was virtually no barriers between us and I could feel _him_ against me, hard and prodding. I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, but pretended not to notice and instead focused on his mouth, which had left my lips and was leaving a trail on my neck that felt so impossibly good I feared I might melt in his arms.

Finally, after some time, air was something we could no longer deny, and we stopped, putting our foreheads together as we caught our breath. After a moment, the reality of the war seemed to come crashing back down upon us. I felt tears burn my eyes but forcibly blinked them away. I was _not_ going to cry.

"I can't, Katniss," he whispered suddenly.

"You can't what?"

"I can't leave you now. I don't think I can bear it."

I blinked again as the tears threatened to return, then opened my eyes and pulled back to look at him, being as strong as I could.

"You have to," I began. "If there's even a small chance we could win this war, you have to do your part. I wish I could fight alongside you."

Peeta shook his head vehemently. "The only thing that will sustain me is knowing I can return home to you."

I gave him a small smile, but I hoped it was reassuring.

"I'll be here," I said, planting a languid kiss on his lips. "Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the update! It was a bit of a longer chapter so it took me a bit longer to write. The next chapter should be out next week. Leave a review and let me know what you think! I love reading your thoughts and responses! Until next time! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MILD MATURE CONTENT AHEAD!

LATE APRIL 1776

_~Peeta~_

I found it rather difficult to sleep that night. Not because of the cot I was lying upon in the Odairs' home, but because of the events of the day with Katniss. I was completely and undeniably falling in love with her.

The thought of leaving to train for the army in just a couple of days was nearly intolerable. When I had asked if I could write to her, I never expected our relationship to progress so rapidly. She had always seemed so aloof, very obviously ignoring society's norms, especially in regards to the role of a woman in the household. That was one of the many reasons I had noticed her, and now fallen in love with her, in the first place. However, I never would have expected her to so blatantly ignore the protocols of courting.

Being alone with each other was already greatly frowned upon as it was, but kissing the way we had definitely crossed a line that could get us both into trouble. I found myself suddenly wishing we could get married now, but other than the fact that I was leaving in two days, I sensed she would not be too keen on this idea. Then again, she had surprised me more than once these past couple of days...

XXX

Eventually, I fell asleep, dreams of Katniss kissing me and more plaguing my mind throughout the entirety of the night. I awoke the next morning with a distinct ache in my groin. For once, I was grateful to be accustomed to baking hours and, thus, avoided humiliation as I was awake before Finnick or his mother. I rose quickly from the cot and made my way into the kitchen, where I took a few swigs of rum from the bottle perched on a shelf. The potent liquid burned my throat and stomach, but did a thorough job of waking me while suppressing my arousal.

Finnick must have heard me and joined me shortly after.

"Had trouble sleeping?" he asked, glancing at the bottle in my hand and sitting down at the table.

"You could say that," I mumbled in reply, placing the bottle back in its spot on the shelf before joining him at the table.

"Are you having doubts about enlisting?"

"Not exactly," I said, drawing a deep breath. "I just had a lot on my mind."

"I can imagine," he replied sympathetically. "Best get used to sleeping on a cot, though. Unfortunately, that's the most luxurious thing you'll sleep on in the army. We often slept on the ground if we were trying to move quickly. And sometimes we didn't get any sleep at all."

"From...ambushes?" I asked hesitantly.

He looked down at the table, avoiding my eyes as he replied, "Or nightmares."

I let out a long breath, attempting to repress the images of blood and gore that always accompanied mentions of the war. Finnick, most likely sensing my inner turmoil, looked up at me, his face restored to its usual cheerfulness.

"Are you going to call on Miss Everdeen today?"

I nodded. "We are meeting in the woods this evening."

"Ah, hoping to make the most of your remaining time here, I see," Finnick said teasingly.

I couldn't help the blush that colored my cheeks. If only he knew...

"Did you enjoy fishing with her yesterday?" he asked more innocently.

I coughed and adjusted myself in my seat before I replied, "I did. Immensely."

Finnick nodded and said, "Speaking of which, I told Mother I would go out fishing for her today. Care to join me?"

In addition to wanting to repay the Odairs for their kindness toward me, not having dough to knead or bread to bake was already making me feel a bit restless, so I agreed to join Finnick. It was a pleasant morning and a bit different fishing out of the harbor instead of off the shore near the Everdeen homestead. I observed a ferry traveling back and forth between Manhattan and Long Island and I thought about how I would be on it in merely two days to train. I thought of how words on a page written to Katniss would seem so insignificant compared with the time and kisses we had shared.

Suddenly, a ship sailed into the bay and docked in New York Harbor and I was reminded of my brothers. Perhaps I would be able to see them and their families when I went to Manhattan. It would be a small comfort to see them after Mother essentially disowned me.

When I broke the news to my parents that I had enlisted in the Continental Army, I knew they would not take it well, especially Mother, being the Loyalist that she was. However, I had not anticipated her violent reaction. She had thrown things at me, including a candlestick that left a large bruise on my thigh, all while Father stood back and did nothing. He had remained silent during the whole exchange, his lined face the only indicator that he was disappointed in me. That had been more painful than the objects being hurtled at me.

Mother had always been difficult to live with. I learned that after having my two older brothers, she had desperately wanted a daughter, so I was doomed from the moment of my birth when I showed up with a cock between my legs. In her eyes, I was a disappointment and always would be. No matter what I did, I would never meet her expectations. It took me years to finally accept that.

Father, on the other hand, told me quite often that he was proud of me - perhaps as a way to make up for Mother's constant disapproval. And perhaps that's why his disappointment in me now hurt more than I expected. I recalled how he looked when I told him I'd enlisted. His graying blond hair seemed to hang in sad, limp tendrils around his face and the lines of his forehead somehow deepened. The wrinkles around his eyes that called back memories of laughter over the foolishness that naturally occurred from having three sons seemed to vanish.

"Your line, Peet!" Finnick suddenly hollered at me, drawing me from my melancholy thoughts.

I jerked in surprise and saw that my fishing line was moving about as the unwitting fish tried to desperately free itself from the hook. I hauled it in and placed it in the net along with the other fish that I assumed Finnick had caught. I realized I wasn't being much help and apologized for it.

Finnick brushed off my apology with a wave of his hand. "No worries, mate. Are you nervous about training?"

Though that hadn't been the reason for my despondency, I nodded, for I _was_ nervous.

"Well, you can always ask me questions," Finnick replied, the boat swaying slightly as he brought in another fish.

I thought for a moment but came to the conclusion that I didn't really _want_ to ask questions. Doing so would most likely only bring answers that made it even more difficult to leave.

"Thank you, Finn," I finally replied. "But I think I would rather find things out for myself."

Finnick nodded in understanding. "Alright."

XXX

The rest of the day passed quickly. Finnick and I ate supper with his mother and then I left to meet Katniss in the woods. As I stepped outside, leaving the warmth of Mrs. Odair's kitchen, I noticed the air had significantly cooled off from that morning and dark clouds were rolling in from the sea. I pulled my coat around myself tighter, hoping to trap my body heat within it.

By the time I reached the edge of the forest, rain was pouring from the sky. Water dripped in my eyes off the edge of my hat and my teeth were slightly chattering. I stepped under the canopy of trees to find they blocked most of the rain. The air even felt a bit warmer here.

When I reached the stream that Katniss and I swam in yesterday, I found she was already there, waiting for me, perched on a boulder by the water. She turned when she heard my approach and smiled shyly at me before remarking, "You're soaked!"

She, on the other hand, looked remarkably dry. "It's storming, in case you hadn't noticed," I chuckled.

"Oh," she replied. "It must have started after I reached the forest. I've been here for some time."

I took off my drenched hat and coat, shook them out, then placed them on a nearby rock to dry before climbing onto the boulder to sit next to her. She shivered when my body made contact with hers, our legs pressed against each other.

"You're freezing!" she exclaimed.

"I'll warm up," I replied, giving her a sly smile. She rolled her eyes, but I saw the delightful rose color that bloomed in her cheeks.

We sat in silence for a while, watching the stream, swollen with rainwater, tumbling over the stones of the dam. I briefly thought of swimming again, but then remembered the water was most likely chilled from the onslaught of rain.

"Peeta," Katniss suddenly said, causing me to look at her expectantly. She continued to stare at the stream, the curls of her hair loose from its braid, swaying gently against her cheeks. "About yesterday…"

Oh, no. Was she regretting what happened between us? The kiss had been intimate, indeed, but the only thing I regretted about it was how difficult it was making it to leave now. I waited with bated breath for her explanation.

"I felt that I should apologize for how forward I was," she stated, picking at some dirt on the rock. "You should know I've never done anything like that with anyone before."

"Neither have I," I replied, releasing my breath. "There's no need for apologies. It wasn't as if you... _forced_ me to kiss you."

She glanced up at me shyly, the vulnerability in her eyes causing my heart to pound. "I can't explain what it is that draws me to you. Perhaps it's because of the kindness you showed me when we were young and those boys picked on me in the town square."

I remembered what she was referring to. Even when she was a child, she had refused to behave the way a girl was expected to, and followed her father around to hunt and trade in town. I believe we were only around eight or nine years old at the time, when I was running errands with Mother and Katniss was accompanying her Father to trade.

Both of our parents had been in one of the shops in town when I spotted her in the square. Of course, I had seen Katniss before, captivated by her unique spirit and appearance, so I noticed when two older boys approached her. It became quickly evident, from their gestures and facial expressions, that this was not a pleasant exchange. I knew, even then, that Katniss needed no assistance in defending herself, but I couldn't bear the thought of these boys picking on her. So, despite Mother's instructions to wait outside the shop for her, I strode over to where Katniss was standing in defiance as the boys continued to taunt her.

I reached her side just in time to hear one of them call her a "filthy savage." Without even considering the consequences, I drew my arm back and punched the large boy square in the nose. I had never hit anyone before, as I didn't consider horse-playing with my brothers real fighting, so I surprised myself as well as the two boys and Katniss. The boy fell heavily to the ground, blood streaming through his fingers as he cupped his nose.

What ensued next I had spent years trying to erase from my memory. The boy rose from the ground and, along with his friend, began harshly beating me. They pushed me down, kicking and punching my ribs, shoulders, face, anything they could make contact with. I remembered Katniss trying to stop them, pushing back against them and screaming at them to leave me alone.

Her screams must have been what brought the attention of her father. He was on the larger boys in a flash, grabbing them by the backs of their shirts and pulling them off of me. After giving them a stern warning to never let him catch them doing anything of the sort again, he sent them away. People of the town were wary of Mr. Everdeen due to his "savage blood," so I knew the boys would take his warning seriously.

Katniss, meanwhile, had knelt down beside me, helping me to sit up, asking if I was alright, holding her handkerchief to my nose to stem the bleeding. The humiliation of getting pummelled in front of her felt worse than the wounds I had sustained.

Mother had also heard the commotion and came to me, her lack of sympathy quickly apparent. She grabbed the front of my blood-stained shirt and hauled me to my feet, scolding me for making a scene and ruining my clothes. Mr. Everdeen offered to take me to his wife who could examine my injuries and provide some remedies for them, but Mother, of course, refused, not wanting to interact with the Everdeens any more than was required for trading.

Just as Mother was about to drag me away, I thought I heard Katniss murmur a small, "thank you," but I was never certain if she had or not. Even after Mr. Everdeen died and she began trading with us herself, we never spoke of the incident again...until now.

"You remember that?" I asked breathlessly, searching her eyes.

She looked at me like I was absurd. "Of course, I remember. You took a beating to defend me. How could I possibly forget?"

I looked away, unable to meet her eyes as the shame still stung after ten years. I flinched in surprise when I felt her warm hand on my cheek, forcing me to look back at her. Her gray eyes were brimming with gratitude and tenderness and I felt the breath leave my lungs before she leaned in and kissed me.

My mouth parted for hers and our lips locked together in a languid embrace, eventually giving way for our tongues that reached for each other. The remaining chill in my bones fled and I brought my hands up to cup her face. She brought her own hand up to place on mine, as if to keep me there, which I eagerly obliged for some time.

When we finally parted for air, a hint of a smile played on her lips as she said, "Consider that a proper 'thank you.'"

XXX

The next day passed much the same. I slept fitfully, but my dreams of Katniss were consumed by bloody images of the war as my departure loomed only a day away. I hadn't even seen battle yet and I was already having nightmares. Fishing with Finnick helped to soothe my nerves a bit, but all I longed for was to see Katniss.

As evening finally approached, I made my way to the Everdeen homestead as Katniss had instructed the night before. She wanted me to officially meet her mother and sister. I knocked on the door and heard loud scuffling from inside the cabin before it opened. Prim stood before me, a knowing grin on her face.

"Hi, Peeta," she greeted cheekily. I supposed all the Everdeens were prone to ignoring social formalities.

"Good evening," I replied. "You must be Prim."

"Who else?" she asked with a playful tone of haughtiness, bowing dramatically before me.

I laughed. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well. Would you like to come in?" she asked rhetorically, opening the door wider to allow me entrance into their home.

I had been here before, but never inside. The cabin was small, but cozy, warm and overall, pleasant. A fire blazed in the hearth, eradicating the chill from the evening air, and a pot boiled above it. Watching Mrs. Everdeen add ingredients to it, I assumed her concoction was responsible for the smell of peppermint in the air. Noticing me, she paused in her work and approached me, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Mr. Mellark," she said quietly, sticking out her hand, which I politely shook. "It's good to see you - and not under the circumstances of needing treatment." Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, but I appreciated her efforts to be cordial, nonetheless.

I recalled that the last time I saw her was to retrieve ointment for burns. "Yes, no burns to speak of this time," I replied with a lighthearted chuckle. I was beginning to feel a bit nervous over Katniss's absence. I was unsure how much she had told her family about our relationship and didn't want to cause strife by assuming anything.

An awkward beat passed.

"So, you depart for training in the Continental Army soon?" Mrs. Everdeen inquired, pulling a chair out from the table in the center of the room and gesturing for me to sit.

"I do," I responded as I sat down. "Tomorrow, actually. I felt it was time I did my part in aiding the patriot cause."

She searched my eyes for a moment and I saw what I thought to be a brief flash of grief in her own pale blue ones. "That's very admirable of you," she remarked quietly.

I humbly inclined my head. "I appreciate your saying so."

She looked at me a moment longer before she turned back to the pot over the fire.

"Would you care for some tea?" she questioned, her tone lightening again.

"Tea would be wonderful," I replied graciously.

She ladled some into a mug and handed it to me. As I took a tentative sip, I briefly wondered why she hadn't used the kettle for hot water. However, when the cool taste of mint flooded my mouth with the hot liquid, I remembered she was a healer and probably had a reason for making such a large quantity of it.

As if reading my thoughts, Mrs. Everdeen elaborated, "Peppermint tea can cure a number of maladies, including an unsettled stomach." She gave me a meaningful look as if she understood the anxiety I was suffering over my impending departure.

"Thank you," I said genuinely. "It's good."

Prim suddenly placed a plate of bread and cheese on the table, reminding me that she was here. I couldn't help the pang of regret I felt upon seeing the loaves, but I was relieved that my parents were still trading with the Everdeens.

"You should try the goat cheese on your bread," Prim remarked. "It's delicious."

I happily obliged, wanting to ward off my discomfort over Katniss's lingering absence. I was too afraid to ask as I didn't want to seem too forward or rude. I took a bite of the slice of bread I'd smeared with goat cheese and my eyebrows raised in delight. Prim was right, it was delicious.

"This is fantastic," I said, momentarily forgetting my manners and speaking with my mouthful. Prim giggled and even Mrs. Everdeen smiled.

Finally, Katniss strode through the front door, not looking at any of us as she flung her game bag onto the floor, ranting angrily about how tight-fisted Haymitch Abernathy was when it came to trading his liquor. It looked as if she had won the haggle, though, as she carried a bottle of rum in her hand.

Turning, she finally saw me sitting at the table with her family and her eyes grew wide in shock and then remorse.

"Peeta!" she exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, I forgot you were coming! Mr. Abernathy is just such an -"

Prim, anticipating the colorful words I'm sure Katniss was going to assign Haymitch, cut her off. "Katniss, it's alright. It isn't as if Mother and I were torturing Peeta while we waited for you."

Katniss looked at me apologetically and I gave her a reassuring smile to indicate that everything was fine, though perhaps a bit awkward. She visibly relaxed and sat down at the table next to me, hungrily reaching for the plate of bread and cheese.

I spent the next hour or so conversing with the Everdeen women. The more we talked, the easier it became and I found that I enjoyed their company. If I wasn't mistaken, it seemed the feeling was mutual. I felt encouraged by this, considering my intentions with Katniss. She must have informed them that I wanted to write to her while I was away, because they asked if I knew where I would end up and how long I would be gone. Of course, I didn't know the answer to either of those questions, but expressed that I hoped it wouldn't be too far or too long.

When sunset arrived, indicated by the orange hues streaming in through the windows, Katniss asked if I would like to watch it from the beach. I said I did, so we rose from our seats to leave. I thanked Mrs. Everdeen and Prim for their hospitality and expressed that I hoped to see them again soon.

"The pleasure was ours," Mrs. Everdeen stated kindly. "Stay safe while you're away and return home soon."

I nodded and smiled gratefully at her before following Katniss out of the cabin and to the beach where the sun was just setting across the bay. We sat down in the grass, our sides pressed against each other. Katniss even slid her arm through mine and leaned her head on my shoulder. I felt my pulse quicken and committed the feeling to memory, knowing it could be months before I ever felt this again...if I ever did at all.

The sky turned a soft shade of orange, with streaks of gold and pink reflecting in the clouds.

"That's my favorite color," I remarked quietly, careful not to break the serene bubble that enveloped us.

Katniss raised her head, first looking at me and then back to the sky, as if she was contemplating each color of the sunset that now reflected in the ocean waters.

"It _is_ beautiful," she said. "But I think I still prefer the green of the forest."

This didn't surprise me. I'd only been in the woods with her twice, but she seemed to belong there. She seemed at home and at peace in the refuge of the trees. I kissed her cheek gently, memorizing the way her profile looked in the glowing hues.

"I wish you weren't leaving," she whispered, settling her forehead against mine. "But I admire you for doing so."

I swallowed thickly and closed my eyes, resisting the urge to cry.

"Promise you'll write to me as often as you can," she insisted.

"I promise," I replied, my voice shaking slightly. "Will you write back?"

She nodded fervently. "Of course."

I smiled sadly, then took her face in my hands and kissed her. I could taste salt on her lips, but couldn't tell if it was from the bread she had eaten not long ago or her tears that were trickling down her cheeks. I tried to convey every feeling I held for her through this kiss, hoping that she felt it.

We kissed passionately and for a long time, until the sun sank out of sight and left us in a twilight that seemed to mourn with us. Our arms wrapped around each other, pulling each other as close as possible. Our lips parted and reconnected in a heated frenzy as we panted for air and sought out new angles to deepen the kiss. I caught her bottom lip between my own and savored the taste of it before moving to kiss her neck, leaving wet kisses there.

She moaned quietly when I discovered a particularly sensitive spot where her pulse beat against my mouth and I felt the blood rush to my groin. Her hands slipped down to the open collar of my shirt where she pressed her palms against my chest and blazed a fiery trail as she moved over my bare skin and back up to the nape of my neck.

Eventually, we knew we could not go any farther, and we pulled apart with a final languid kiss. I ignored the tightness in my breeches as I brushed strands of hair from her face. She looked at me while I did so, her lips swollen and her gray eyes the color of a storm cloud about to unleash a downpour.

I swallowed and took a deep breath before I said, "I have to be going."

"Please," she replied, placing her hand on my arm. "Just stay a little longer."

It was getting harder and more painful to delay the inevitable, but I couldn't deny her wish and pulled her tight against me, watching the moonlight dance on the ocean waves until the first faint streaks of dawn illuminated the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, leave a comment and let me know what you think! I appreciate your feedback :) The next chapter will be out soon!


	5. Chapter 5

MAY 1776

_~Katniss~_

The few days after Peeta's departure passed uneventfully. I tried to reacquaint myself with the routine I established after Father was killed: Hunt - or fish - eat lunch, trade, eat supper, help with any other chores around the homestead, and then sleep. However, I missed the evenings with Peeta, despite how short-lived they had been.

He had somehow brought a light into my life that I hadn't experienced since Father was still alive. Peeta had become the embodiment of hope to me, returning laughter, joy and love to my life. I could no longer imagine a future that he wasn't entangled in, though, I struggled to admit to myself what I hoped that future would look like.

Finally, Peeta's first letter arrived on my birthday. We had told each other our birthdays that day on the beach that we spent hours talking and getting to know one another. His wasn't until October, but I now recalled that when I divulged mine was the eighth of May, his face had taken on a thoughtful expression. I now supposed he must have been committing the date to memory, for here was his letter, my name written upon it in his unmistakable hand. I knew immediately that it was no coincidence.  
I eagerly opened the letter, hungry for his words and impatient to know of his well-being. I felt encouraged that both Finnick and Gale had accompanied him to Manhattan Island, but I couldn't escape the nagging feeling that something would inevitably go wrong.

As I unfolded the letter, another small slip of paper fell to the floor. I hastily bent to retrieve it and flipped it over to find one of Peeta's beautiful sketches. I smiled as I took in the fine details of the view of Brooklyn Heights from Manhattan Island. He was so close - just across the bay - and yet it might as well have been a thousand miles. While I didn't know the routines and drills of training in the army, as Father had only been in the militia, I felt it was safe to assume that surprise visits were frowned upon.

I peered closer at the sketch and noticed a tiny figure on the shore of Long Island. While it was entirely too small for any real details, I knew the figure was intended to be me. I couldn't help the broad smile that overtook my face as I appreciated this minute, yet purposeful addition.

"What is it?" Prim asked, tearing me from my reverie and attempting to peer at the slip of paper in my hands.

"Peeta included a drawing with his letter," I explained, handing the sketch to her. I noticed with gratitude that she took care to hold it by the edges so she wouldn't smudge it.

"This is lovely," she replied in awe. "He's very talented."

"He is, indeed," Mother remarked, looking over our shoulders. I smiled in acknowledgement of her compliment. Though it wasn't intended for me, I felt proud all the same.

"I hope he's doing well?" Mother inquired.

"I haven't read his letter yet," I replied, holding it up.

"Well, read it then!" Prim ordered, handing the drawing back to me.

I eagerly obeyed, rushing to sit on our shared bed for a bit of privacy, though they both went back to crushing herbs.

 _My dearest Katniss,_ the letter began, sending a warm, fluttery feeling to my insides.

_I hope this letter finds you well - and on your birthday, as I intended. I regret that I cannot spend the day in your company, but I hope your mother and sister spoil you a bit, seeing as I cannot at present. I plan to buy you a gift when I've saved enough money from my soldier's salary._

I shook my head, inwardly protesting this. However, I stopped and laughed when I read the next line.

_I know you would object to this, but seeing as you are not here to stop me, I am free to do with my meager earnings as I please._

I could hear his voice clearly in my head, light-hearted as he made his joke. My smile widened.

_I am adjusting to life in the army, and it seems I have many reasons to be grateful for my upbringing in the bakery. We rise at sunrise, yet I'm so accustomed to baking hours, I'm awake before reveille. We drill with muskets for at least eight hours per day, however, which is quite tiresome. As you know from hunting, loading a musket is not a quick process, yet we are training to fire four rounds per minute. It is rather difficult, yet my years of baking have calloused my fingers so I do not suffer from blisters the way some other men do. My skills have also been put to use to make bread every day for the army. This has been quite a fortunate opportunity, as it has prevented me from being assigned to latrine duty._

I chuckled. I so appreciated his sense of humor that wove itself through his written words. It somehow made such a heavy situation feel a bit lighter.

_Gale and Finnick's companionship has helped the transition immensely. While they could never replace your company, I enjoy time spent with them - though, that isn't much considering the amount of training and work to be done._

_I have made another friend by the name of Thresh. General Washington is granting freedom to any slaves that serve in the Continental Army, and many have enlisted, Thresh being one of them. He is a tall, strong fellow and learns quickly. I'm grateful to have him on our side, as I predict he will be a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield._

I had always found the institution of slavery abhorrent and while many believed General Washington's proposition to be generous and honorable, I viewed it as a death sentence. However, I had to admit, given the choice between a lifetime of slavery and a chance at freedom, I supposed I would also choose the latter.

_I hear General Washington is also planning to send troops to Brooklyn Heights to man Fort Stirling and, eventually, the three new forts that are currently being constructed. While I cannot deny the longing in my heart to be sent back to Brooklyn, I must admit that I fear what this strategy could mean for our home. Perhaps it is only precautionary, but I beg you to stay vigilant and safe, nonetheless, in the chance that the British do come._

I closed my eyes briefly and let out a breath. I had always been afraid that the war would reach us, but up until this point, I had been able to ignore the nagging fear. Now that Peeta had divulged to me he harbored the same fear, I knew I would need to be ready. The British could arrive at any time - assuming they did - and we would have to be prepared. I took some comfort in knowing General Washington was sending troops to Long Island, but if the reports were true, the British far outnumbered those of the Continental Army and militias combined.

_There is one more thing I wish to request of you, Katniss. My father wrote to me just after my departure and, as it turns out, he is not a Loyalist as I had been led to believe. He is secretly a patriot also, but, like me, has been hesitant to tell my mother - you understand, you've seen her temper._

I recalled the way Mrs. Mellark treated Peeta after those two boys beat him when we were young. She never once asked if he was alright, showed any sympathy toward his pain and, as far as I knew, never expressed pride in him for standing up to them.

 _While he cannot enlist, as he has a bad knee,_ the letter continued and I remembered Mr. Mellark's perpetual limp.

_He wants to assist in the patriot cause using more covert methods. Unfortunately, there is too high a risk for me to write him regarding this - my mother would sabotage any patriot efforts she's aware of, and if the British do indeed come to New York, she is cold enough to betray us all. Therefore, I am hoping to relay messages to him through you, as I have great faith in your ability to use inconspicuous methods. If you agree to this, please speak to him when you can, and remember to be discreet._

_I eagerly await your reply, and please know that I think of you nearly every moment of every day. My entire being longs to be with you, to hear your laugh, to see your contentment in the woods, to brush back your hair loosened of its braid, to taste your lips one last time. I dream of the day we can see each other again and pray it is in the near future._

_Now and always yours,_

_Peeta_

I reread his letter several times, clinging to the words of the final paragraph. There was much to take in and absorb. I sat on the bed for a long time, contemplating his words.

Finally, Prim interrupted my thoughts and asked, "So, how is he, Katniss?"

I looked up at her, a bit startled, as I had nearly forgotten she and Mother were even here.

"He seems to be doing well," I replied. "Avoiding latrine duty," I added with a chuckle.

Prim giggled and I saw a slight the corners of Mother's mouth twitch slightly upward.

"Will he be able to visit soon?" Prim said, wiping her hands on her apron.

"He just left a few days ago, Prim," Mother stated.

"I know, I just wondered if he would be able to come back to Brooklyn soon."

"Well, he did say General Washington is sending some troops to Long Island. Maybe he'll be one of them," I said, trying to stifle the longing in my voice.

While Prim beamed with hope, only clinging to the bit of information regarding Peeta, Mother froze, the pestle stilling in her hands against the mortar.

"Troops are coming to Long Island?" she asked quietly.

Prim's smile fell when she heard Mother's tone, and she turned to look at her questioningly.

I nodded, swallowing, knowing Mother feared what I did: that war was coming to Brooklyn Heights.

"When?"

"I'm not sure," I replied, looking down at the letter in my hands, though I knew it didn't give a specific time. "He only said it would be soon."

"I don't understand," Prim said warily, as if she didn't want to know why Mother and I seemed concerned.

"I'm sure it's only precautionary," I explained, not wanting to alarm my little sister, and hoping to calm my mother as well.

As Mother tightened her grip on the pestle and began crushing the herbs in the mortar once again, I heard her mumble, "Let's hope that it is."

XXX

As I lay in bed that night, my belly full of pastries that Prim had secretly traded for at the Mellarks' for my birthday, I thought about Peeta's request to relay messages to his father. It seemed risky, especially considering the aforementioned troop movement. However, I was beginning to think the cost would be worthwhile. If Mr. Mellark could somehow send supplies to the troops, I knew it would boost morale and encourage the soldiers to continue the fight.

Thus, the next day, after a bountiful hunt, I immediately headed for the bakery, not wanting to provide myself any more opportunities to doubt my decision.

I nervously knocked on the back door, but was relieved to see Mr. Mellark's pleasant face. I had a fleeting thought that this was what Peeta would look like in 25 years, if he lived that long, but forcefully pushed the thought aside.

"Hello, Miss Everdeen," he greeted kindly, making me feel a bit more at ease.

"Mr. Mellark," I replied, mustering as much courteousness as I could. "How are you doing?"

"I'm well, thank you," he said. "How are you? I heard yesterday was your birthday. I hope you had a lovely day."

"I did, thank you. The pastries were delicious," I stated genuinely, but feeling a bit impatient over this exchange of pleasantries. There were more important matters to discuss.

"Well, they were Peeta's recipe," he said with a twinkle in his eye. The chaotic thoughts in my head suddenly stopped. There was no mistaking the look he was giving me; he was definitely aware of the relationship occurring between me and his son.

"I-I'll have to thank him in my next letter," I stammered. "Speaking of letters…"

Mr. Mellark's cheerful expression immediately shifted into a more solemn look. He glanced over his shoulder and then limped down the few steps, I assumed to be closer to me. Once the door was shut behind him, he asked lowly, "Peeta informed you of...my true loyalties?"

I nodded. "I will agree to what he has asked of me, as long as it does not endanger my sister or my mother in any way."

"Of course, of course," he replied assuringly.

I nodded again and swallowed before asking, "What are you planning to do?"

Mr. Mellark sighed as if he were about to say something that he could never take back. I supposed that wasn't too far from the truth. "Well, as you may have already determined, I would like to send supplies to the troops in Manhattan."

I wondered if he was aware of the troops being sent to Long Island also and asked him so. He was surprised to hear this news and paused, scratching his head absently the way Peeta did when he was thinking diligently on something.

"I suppose I could help in both places," he said after a short time. "However, I would need someone in Long Island to transport supplies to the troops here."

"I could do it," I stated, without thinking. When I realized what I had volunteered for, I wondered if I should retract my offer. As I briefly considered it, however, it made sense for me to take on this role. I was frequently at the Mellark bakery to trade, so my appearance here would not seem suspicious. I was quick and stealthy, skills I had acquired from hunting, that could also be of great use in transporting supplies from the bakery to the troops.

Mr. Mellark looked at me as if he were about to refuse my offer, however, he must have come to the same conclusion I had: No one else was more suited for this job.

"It's dangerous," he finally muttered, though his argument seemed half-hearted.

"Not while the British aren't here," I replied.

"There are those that are loyal to the Crown," he said, glancing toward the bakery as if he could see his wife through the walls. "And if General Washington is sending troops here...it could mean the British will be here soon as well."

"I'll be discreet," I countered. "And if the British do come...then we're all in danger anyway."

Mr. Mellark considered me again, our eyes locked in silent debate. I realized how very similar Peeta's eyes were to his - not only in color, but in feeling as well, as if you could see into their very hearts through those blue depths.

Finally, he relented with a nod of his head. "Alright. But, Katniss," he said firmly, holding my full attention at the use of my first name. "You must be careful - not just for your family's sake, or Peeta's, or even mine...but for yours as well."

"I will be," I promised.

"Good," he replied, letting out a long breath, his shoulders drooping a bit.

"If you don't mind my asking," I began, quietly. "Who is taking the supplies to the troops in Manhattan?"

I saw a hint of a smile play on his lips and my curiosity piqued.

"I'm not sure you'll believe me," he said, with a slight shake of his head.

"Try me."

He let out a low chuckle as he stated, "Haymitch Abernathy."

XXX

As it turned out, Haymitch Abernathy wasn't the idiotic, sloppy drunk everyone believed him to be. Mr. Mellark was careful on the details he shared with me, not wanting me to be burdened with too much damning information, but I was able to fill in most of the blanks myself.

Mr. Abernathy had the perfect cover: he was the proprietor of a tavern that drew people of all sorts, providing the opportunity to be privy to any kind of gossip or hidden news that was circulating. He was also required to go to Manhattan at least once per week to purchase more stock for his tavern, allowing him yet another opportunity to gather pieces of information that commonly flitted among sailors, like seagulls among sails.

He would be able to conceal the food and supplies Mr. Mellark gave to him on his boat that he rowed across the bay, and, once he arrived in New York Harbor, could put it in the right hands to be taken to the soldiers of the Continental Army.

Once I recovered from my initial shock upon learning that Mr. Abernathy was a patriot, and such an avid one at that, I couldn't help but appreciate how clever and cunning he must be to have devised such a brilliant plan. I decided to visit his tavern a day early this week.

I walked in, my senses immediately annihilated by the smell of strong rum and reeking men too inebriated to travel home the night before. I avoided looking too closely at the snoring bodies slouched over tables and chairs, not wanting to see anything that would be difficult to erase from my memory.

"Well, Miss Everdeen," Haymitch greeted me, surprisingly sober himself.

"Haymitch," I replied, purposely forgetting my manners. I wasn't here to trade today.

"You're here early this week," he remarked, leaning across the counter. "Decide to take up my offer of becoming a barmaid?"

He waggled his eyebrows at me suggestively and I inwardly cringed, but I reminded myself that this was all a ruse.

"Cut the act, old man," I hissed through my teeth. "I know why you really go to New York Harbor every week."

I had to admit, the man was an excellent actor. He didn't even so much as flinch at my words. He only let out a burst of cackling laughter.

"You got me," he said as he continued to snicker. "I go for the gambling too."

I narrowed my eyes at him and he narrowed his back. While he undoubtedly annoyed me and somehow always managed to get under my skin, I knew he was only denying his patriotic involvement because he didn't know if he could trust me. I would do the same were I in his situation.

"Well, then why don't you take this to gamble with?" I seethed, holding up a few loaves wrapped in cloth that Mr. Mellark had traded with me. I held his gaze, willing him to understand my hidden meaning.

His eyes bored into my own for a moment before I saw the slightest hint of realization light his eyes. To anyone else, the flash would have been too quick, but I noticed it, being accustomed to detecting minute movements in the forest.

"Why don't you head back to the storeroom with me and I'll give you a bottle for the bread?" he asked, gesturing behind him and casting a quick glance around the tavern to make sure the stragglers were still unconscious.

I calmly obliged, following him around the counter to the storeroom where he promptly shut the door.

"Damn it, girl, you've gotta be more discreet than that!" he whispered loudly.

I became defensive. "How else was I supposed to tell you?"

"You're a smart girl! You could have figured something out!" He threw his hands up in an exaggerated manner.

My scowl deepened and it took considerable restraint to not pick up one of the various rum bottles around the room and smash it over his disheveled blond head. However, considering the consequences this would not only bring upon me but on the soldiers in Manhattan as well, I took a deep breath and released my anger.

"Fine, I will be more covert next time," I practically growled.

"Good," he stated, crossing his arms. "Now why are you here?"

"I need you to get a letter to Peeta Mellark," I said evenly.

He chuckled and I felt my anger bubble up again. "Sorry, sweetheart, I'm not exactly in the business of transporting love letters."

I rolled my eyes. "It's not that," I replied impatiently. "Peeta is going to write to me about what the soldiers need from his father because it's too risky to write to him himself."

"I'm still not sure where I come into all of this," he interjected stubbornly.

"Just listen!" I demanded. "It would be too easy for these letters to get into the wrong hands, especially if the British come here. So I need you to transport letters between us."

Haymitch considered me for a long moment and then, finally, dropped his arms and let out a ragged sigh.

"Fine," he agreed hesitantly.

I placed the letter I had written to Peeta that morning in his hands, secretly vowing to murder him if he read it.

"So you and the baker's boy aren't writing love letters to each other?" he asked, giving me a skeptical look as if he could read my thoughts.

I was about to say no, for it was none of his business anyway, but the heat that crept up my neck and into my face gave me away before I could utter a single word. Haymitch's eyes widened and then he began cackling again.

"Oh boy," he stated between laughs. "It must be quite a letter to make the fearsome Miss Everdeen blush."

I angrily dropped the loaves of bread on the ground and grabbed a bottle of rum from an open crate. Then, I quickly stormed out of the storeroom before I unleashed my fury and stuffed the bottle down his cackling throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers! Sorry the wait was a bit longer this time - I've been a little busy lately. I know this chapter is more of a filler, but it is necessary in order to set up events for later, so I hope you stick with me. The next chapter will be out soon, but in the meantime, leave a review and let me know what you think! :)


	6. Chapter 6

MAY 1776

_~Peeta~_

It was the first time reveille had awoken me. Every morning prior I had risen before the bugle sounded in the camp, but the long hours of training and working seemed to have finally caught up with me. I was utterly exhausted.

I rose with the rest of the soldiers, quickly dressing for the training and duty. I went through the motions of the day, mindlessly loading and reloading my musket, proving over and over again that I could load it four times in less than a minute. Gale seemed especially impressed with this, remarking that it took most soldiers several weeks of training to be able to do this. I attributed my early success to not being inhibited by finger bandages at which he laughed.

Once drills had finished, I went to my tent to change into civilian clothes for baking. Thankfully, making bread had become easier now that I had taught other soldiers assigned to cooking duty how to do it properly. The task of baking enough for the troops - if one could consider it enough - was more evenly divided now, no longer falling so heavily upon my shoulders.

I thought of Father when I considered the meager dough rations before me. I felt fairly confident that Katniss would help, given her patriot sympathies, but worried that Father would be caught. Soldiers were now stationed at Fort Stirling near Brooklyn Heights and I couldn't shake the feeling that British troops would soon follow.

That evening as I walked back to my tent that I shared with five other soldiers, I noticed with appreciation that the sky was still light due to the approaching summer days. When I reached the entrance, I pushed the flaps aside and noticed a loaf of bread wrapped in cloth on my cot. I stood, frozen as the canvas flaps swayed behind me in the gentle spring breeze, puzzling over what the bread could be doing there.

I finally picked it up and sniffed it. The familiar smell of the Mellark bakery flooded my nostrils, causing my heart to clench in longing, for home and all that I had left behind - and whom I had left behind. As Katniss came to mind, a thought suddenly occurred to me, and I tore the loaf open, finding that my suspicions were correct: a letter was inside.

I eagerly pulled it out, flakes of crust drifting to the dirt beneath my feet. Forgetting the hearty bread for a moment, I opened the letter to find Katniss's neat writing within. My heart leaped.

_Dear Peeta,_

_Thank you very much for your affectionate letter. I was overjoyed to receive it and hear that you are doing well. You will be pleased to know it arrived just in time for my birthday as you planned. You were correct to assume that I would object to any gift you purchased for me, as it would be much more practical for you to save your money for more necessary items. Your well-being and health are much more important to me than any material gift._

I chuckled and shook my head at her stubbornness.

_My family and I are doing well; keeping busy as the weather continues to warm. I find myself seeking the cool shade of the forest more often and long for your companionship as I swim in the stream._

I felt my face flush at her implication and my breeches suddenly seemed a bit stifling.

_I am not all that surprised to hear you are putting your baking skills to use. Your father informed me that the pastries Prim retrieved for my birthday were your recipe. They were the most delicious things I have ever tasted. When you return home, I plan to gather as many berries as I possibly can so that you can make more of the sweet treats._

I was pleased to know she enjoyed the fruit pastries, and that Father had traded them with Prim. I tried to shift my thoughts from the ache in my chest at her mention of returning home. She had no idea how desperately I wanted to do just that.

_I am glad to know Finnick and Gale have kept you company and that you have made a new friend. Gale stopped by before he went to Fort Stirling and spoke of Thresh as well. He seems to be an invaluable asset to the revolutionary cause. I only wish that he had been given the choice to fight as a free man._

_Now, I'm sure you must be wondering why I sent this letter in such a secret manner. Allow me to explain: I was able to speak with your father regarding the matter of his covert involvement in supplying the army, and we have worked out a system so as to not be caught - by your mother or the redcoats._

_As it turns out, Haymitch Abernathy is not the moronic alcoholic we all supposed him to be. He is a secret revolutionary as well, and has been gathering information through customers and from sailors at New York Harbor when he purchases stock for his tavern. He has agreed to transport supplies from the bakery to Manhattan during his weekly trips across the bay, and to be the middle-man, if you will, between our letters. This should aid in preventing our correspondence from falling into the wrong hands._

I read this last paragraph again, shocked to learn that Haymitch was not only more intelligent than we had ever believed, but also a revolutionary that was willing to put himself at risk to aid in the cause.

_As you know, rebel troops have now been stationed at Fort Stirling. I spoke with your father about this, and he has agreed to send them supplies as well, with my help. Gale and I have worked out a way to secretly transport the supplies. If the redcoats come, I promise we will be careful and discreet. I'm glad to be of use to the patriot cause in this way, and I'm encouraged as I discover new patriots every day. It seems General Washington's strategy was wise, for it not only should deter the British from entering New York Bay, but it has caused people to feel emboldened and less afraid to reveal their true sympathies._

I couldn't help but admire Katniss for her strength and boldness in the face of so much unknown. However, I was admittedly worried for her as well. She was becoming more involved in the war than I ever intended her to be and I felt a pang of regret for asking her to help at all. I supposed now, though, it was too late to go back. We had all gone too far and had committed our entire beings to the revolutionary cause. I could only hope and pray that it would end in our favor.

_I cannot deny that I wish for you to be stationed at Fort Stirling as well, for the chances of seeing you. Gale seems to believe it could be a possibility in the near future, but as you are still in training, and your baking skills are apparently invaluable, you must stay in Manhattan awhile longer._

_Know that I miss you and dream of you nearly every night. I dream of our times on the beach and in the canoe. I dream of swimming in the stream, of kissing you deeply and...more, though I dare not detail it here._

As I felt the familiar tightening in my breeches again, I was thankful none of the other soldiers had returned to the tent yet. I laid back onto my cot, unlacing my pants so I could ease the ache that was becoming more frequent.

_I must confess that I am afraid to envision my future, as I long for you to be in it, but fear that something will happen to you and that future could be lost. I beg you to do all you can to stay safe and well, so you might return to me and we could discover what our futures may hold, together._

_I eagerly await your next letter. I long to read your words as they seem to somehow shorten the distance between us. Also, thank you for your last sketch. It was lovely. I hope to receive another soon._

_Now and always yours,_

_Katniss_

I was left in a state of awe upon finishing her letter. Katniss somehow managed to render me speechless despite the bay that lay between us. As she shared in her letter, I too often dreamed of kissing her and more. I desired her in body and soul, and could only continue to passionately and reverently make love to her in my dreams.

XXX

The next morning, I was awakened by Finnick and Thresh, who shared the tent with me. By the sounds of it, they were teasing me for sleeping late.

I groggily opened my eyes, realizing that I still clutched Katniss's letter in my hand.

"What's this?" Finnick asked, taking the letter from me before I had a chance to react.

"A letter from Katniss," I replied, sitting up and snatching the letter back out of his hands. While I obviously didn't want him reading the private things she had shared with me, I didn't want him to find out about the covert operations she was involved in either. The fewer people who knew the better.

"Katniss? Is this the girl I hear him mumbling about in his sleep?" Thresh questioned in his deep voice.

I felt heat rush to my face and desperately hoped I hadn't uttered anything embarrassing.

"It is, indeed," Finnick replied, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "I'm afraid the fair Miss Everdeen has our boy lovesick and homesick all at once."

Thresh rolled his eyes at Finnick's dramatization and I retrieved my breeches from the ground, standing up to tuck my long shirt into them.

"What time is it?" I asked. "Surely, I didn't sleep through reveille?"

Thresh shook his head. "No, you did not. The General has given us a day of rest. He says it is good for morale."

While I couldn't deny that I appreciated the much-needed extra sleep, I also couldn't help but question General Washington's decision. Many soldiers, including myself, hadn't seen combat yet. While I was certain no amount of training would ever truly prepare us for battle, many soldiers still struggled to load their muskets. I could only hope the British wouldn't show up today.

"Whoever said rest is good for morale, has never drank an entire bottle of rum by himself," Finnick chimed in. "We're going to the docks to find an establishment best suited for this endeavor."

Thresh and I looked at each other in amusement. Neither of us were prone to drinking to the point of oblivion, but Finnick had a reputation for doing so from time to time. I had to admit, numbing my home- and lovesickness was sounded rather tempting at the moment, so I agreed to accompany them.

XXX

"Here's another for you, Peet!" Finnick exclaimed, handing me my fifth - or was it my sixth? - mug of ale.

I had never been drunk before, but I was beginning to understand why alcohol was a common remedy for those trying to forget painful memories or drown out current circumstances - such as the one we were in now.

I clumsily clunked my mug against Finnick's and Thresh's and lifted the brim to my lips, letting the foamy liquid run down my throat in large gulps. As I slammed the mug down on the table in time with my companions, the room began to sway. I was feeling light and optimistic, my mother, being a soldier and the revolution forgotten for the time being. Katniss, however, could not be washed away by ale, it seemed, no matter how much I drank. She was always there, lingering in my mind, and apparently I'd brought her up several times to the barmaids that showed...interest.

Finnick teased me for it, but he was far more drunk than I. His eyes were half closed, his bronze hair stuck out in all directions and he could barely stay in his seat. Thresh, on the other hand, was not so easily intoxicated, being the large man that he was. Though he matched us drink for drink, he hardly seemed affected. Instead, he merely seemed amused by mine and Finnick's inferior tolerance, listening to us as we spoke our unfiltered thoughts, as alcohol was known to induce.

Unfortunately, during one of these moments, I let it slip that Katniss and I had kissed rather passionately on more than one occasion. Finnick's bloodshot eyes widened and he leaned across the table as if that would help his inebriated mind to understand the details better. Even Thresh seemed mildly intrigued as I told them how Katniss took me to the stream in the forest and taught me how to swim.

Suddenly, Finnick sat bolt upright and exclaimed, "Let's go swimming!"

"Where?" Thresh asked hesitantly, as if he were a bit nervous that Finnick was serious.

"In the bay, of course!" Finnick replied, standing up, slamming some bills on the table and strolling out of the tavern and toward the docks.

Thresh kept up easily enough, his long strides matching Finnick's quick ones, but I was apparently more drunk than I had supposed, and I struggled to keep up, stumbling on the cobblestones of the street. Once we reached the docks, I nearly fell face-first, the shadows of the swaying ships enhancing the illusion that the wooden planks were moving beneath me.

A loud splash from up ahead indicated that Finnick had not been joking about swimming. Thresh seemed mildly alarmed at this, and acted as if he were about to jump in after Finnick to save him, but I assured him that a lifetime of fishing had made Finnick an excellent swimmer, and that I didn't doubt his abilities, intoxicated as he was.

Finnick's head suddenly broke back through the surface. The moonlight made the droplets on his face glisten and I shook my head to clear my vision.

"Come on, Peet!" he called. "Let's see those swimming skills."

Despite my drunken state, I had the clarity of mind to refuse, knowing that it was illegal to swim in the harbor. After Finnick finally gave up on persuading Thresh and I to join him, he swam to shore, the docks too high above the water for him to pull himself up.

Thresh and I walked back toward shore and waited for Finnick. Whether it was from the shock of the cold water or the exertion of swimming that caused it, Finnick seemed of sounder mind once he emerged from the water. Thresh handed him his shirt, which Finnick had discarded before jumping in the water. Finnick shook out his hair like a shaggy dog and then proceeded to pull the shirt over his head.

Just as were about to return to camp, Finnick stopped in his tracks as he looked out to sea. Puzzled, Thresh and I followed his gaze to see a young woman rowing a small boat back into the harbor. Even from here I could see her long, flowing red hair. I blinked just to be certain she wasn't an alcohol-induced vision. Finnick seemed mesmerized, completely oblivious to us.

Before I even began to wonder what a young woman was doing out alone in a boat at night, she rose from said boat, tied it to prevent its drifting back out to sea, then began to struggle with dragging what appeared to be a net full of fish out of the boat. Without hesitating, Finnick immediately jogged over to her. Thresh and I followed, not yet entirely convinced of his sobriety, though I was still feeling pretty dizzy myself.

"May I offer some assistance?" Finnick asked in a smooth, charming tone as if hadn't had a sip of alcohol all evening.

The young woman was startled and stood up abruptly to look at us, a look of panic crossing her face. I realized we must have been fairly intimidating, three men approaching her in the dark of night.

"It's alright, miss," Thresh interjected, as if he knew his large frame was the most responsible for her alarm. "We're not going to harm you. We just want to help."

She still didn't seem entirely convinced, but Finnick gently took her hand and kissed it before introducing himself. "We apologize for startling you, but I saw your beauty from afar and couldn't bear to watch you struggle with the fishing net. May I ask your name?"

She blushed, but seemed to relax a little before she said, "I'm Annie. Annie Cresta."

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Cresta," I replied, before introducing myself and Thresh as well. I omitted the fact that we were soldiers in the Continental Army since nothing of her countenance indicated she was rebel or Tory.

She nodded in polite acknowledgement, the wavy strands of red hair blowing softly around her face. "You are all very generous to help, but I think I can manage. I have before."

"Oh, I have no doubts in your capability, Miss Cresta," Finnick began. "But it would be my pleasure to carry your burden for you."

Finnick cast Thresh and me a brief glance, clearly pleading for us to depart.

"It seems you are in good hands, Miss Cresta," Thresh stated. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well," she mumbled kindly before she assisted Finnick in lifting the net.

Before we received any further looks from Finnick, we quickly turned and walked away. Finnick had flirted with many women before, but it seemed quite different with Annie. Maybe it was just the alcohol in me, but I couldn't ever remember seeing his eyes shine like that before.

XXX

Reveille resounded in the camp as usual the next morning, but I didn't recall it being quite so loud. My head throbbed and my stomach lurched as I attempted to rise from my cot. I should have known the effects of alcohol indulgence were not pleasant. I had seen enough evidence of it from the customers leaving Haymitch's tavern early in the mornings.

Somehow, I managed to drag myself to training. As we practiced marching, I saw Thresh, who looked completely well-rested and alert. I shot him an angry, envious glance before I searched for Finnick's bronze head amongst the shuffling soldiers. I couldn't seem to spot him and wondered if he had ever returned to camp the night before. I felt a pang of guilt over not waiting for him, but the moment I landed on my cot I had fallen asleep - or passed out, was more like it.

I continued to push myself through the motions of the day, finding that busying myself with the routines helped me to forget my pounding headache. However, at around midday, we were all summoned to gather before the officers' quarters. My wonderings on what this could possibly be about ceased the moment I saw bronze hair above a bare chest.

Finnick.

He was standing between two officers, General Washington looking stately and fierce behind him. I knew what was going to happen before he even explained Finnick's failure to report for training or duty. This was the punishment one received for these offenses. Let him be an example to all.

I flinched as the first lash of the whip landed across Finnick's shoulders. His jaw tightened and flexed, but he didn't cry out, even after the second lash, the sixth, the fourteenth, the twenty-fifth...the thirty-ninth.

While I didn't think I could say I admired Finnick, considering his offenses, I could respect his strength. He took every lash and did not protest. Finnick knew the consequences for his actions, but I couldn't help but wonder what had happened with Annie that kept him away for so long.

That evening, as Thresh and I ate our meager supper by the fire, Finnick silently joined us, moving stiffly as he sat on a large rock across from us. While I was intensely curious about what had happened with Annie the night before, I didn't find it prudent to ask at the moment, given the painful circumstances.

Finnick must have somehow known what I was thinking, though, and said bluntly, "I'm going to marry her."

Thresh and I looked up at him in unison. Finnick chuckled at our reaction before he continued, "I've never been one to believe in love at first sight, but I've never felt such a connection with anyone. We spent the entire night just talking. I could have stayed there with her, sitting on the docks, forever." He paused before he said again, with more conviction, "I'm going to marry Annie Cresta."

"Did you ask her already?" Thresh asked, managing to keep his voice neutral.

"Not yet. But the connection I felt with her...she must have felt it too. I'm certain she'll say yes," Finnick replied, his eyes glazing with longing as he stared at the fire.

"When will you ask her?" I inquired, studying him.

"As soon as I can save enough for a ring." He paused before adding, "I know you're thinking it is much too early to be feeling this way, but I think war changes things, don't you? We could die any day, any moment, and we should take advantage of the time we have."

He did have a point. Though there weren't any imminent threats of battle, I knew they would soon come, and there was no guarantee we would survive. In fact, I doubted the odds of all three of us surviving were in our favor.

XXX

The next few weeks passed slowly, and the mounting heat of summer seemed to make everyone a little more irritable. Katniss and I exchanged letters every week via Haymitch, who consistently visited New York Harbor every week under the guise of buying supplies. It seemed our plan was going well. In addition to Katniss's letters, I received a small supply of ingredients for bread. It wasn't much, but I understood that if Father gave more it would be much more conspicuous. The small ration of extra bread, however, seemed to have a significant effect on morale as it better satisfied the appetites of the soldiers.

Katniss wrote that her operation of transporting Father's supplies to Fort Stirling was also going well. When she went in for her routine trading at the bakery, Father would slip ingredients into the cloth wrapped around the loaves, which Gale would later retrieve from the Everdeens' homestead, drawing less attention as people were accustomed to seeing him visit there.

Everything appeared to be going smoothly, yet the feeling of impending danger remained. My dreams had become plagued with images of bloody battle. The worst were the nightmares that began as dreams of Katniss and I tenderly holding each other as we made love, but ended with her dying in my arms as the redcoats invaded our home in Brooklyn Heights.

When I awoke from those dreams, I sought out her letters I kept hidden beneath my cot and read them over and over until I was convinced that she was safe and I could find some peaceful sleep for the few remaining hours until reveille.

There was no doubt that our feelings and fondness for each other were growing, despite our separation and the distance between us. I was so in love with her that my chest physically ached with need for her. I desperately hoped that I would be stationed at Fort Stirling back on Long Island soon, just so that I could look upon her, if only for a little while. I found myself sketching her on several occasions, desperate to see her likeness, even on paper.

By the time I had finally lulled myself into a false sense of security, I discovered my efforts to be in vain. On the evening of June 28th, what I had feared for so long, was suddenly on the brink of reality. General Washington had just received word: the British were coming to New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers! I'm incredibly sorry for the long wait. I recently went back to work and have had some difficulty in finding much time to write. I'm too excited to write this story to give up though, so I hope you are enjoying it and continue to read it! Thank you for your patience and your feedback, it is greatly appreciated :) Until next time!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MILD MATURE CONTENT AHEAD!

LATE JUNE 1776

_~Katniss~_

June seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, busy as I was with the secret transportation of supplies from the bakery to the soldiers at Fort Stirling and Manhattan. There was little time to rest, and taking days off was out of the question. In fact, I was beginning to feel that I spent more time in the woods than I did at home. Since I was now going to the Mellark bakery and Haymitch's tavern more often, I had to ensure I had enough game to conduct the covert business under the guise of trading.

As far as I could tell, no one in town suspected anything or really even noticed my increased appearances. Mr. Mellark had instructed me on which days to come to the bakery, working around Mrs. Mellark's schedule of conducting her own trades in town. While I doubted she would figure out the revolutionary business occurring in her own home with how careful we were, Mr. Mellark and I found it best for me to avoid her as much as possible. Fortunately for us, she was a creature of habit, and stuck to her routines of trading in town every third day, which allowed for a consistent supply of baking ingredients from Mr. Mellark.

Haymitch kept his word and continued to transfer letters between Peeta and me, usually along with a snide remark which I ignored. While Peeta and I did keep each other updated on the transportation of baking supplies and our secret, rebellious acts, our letters seemed to contain more intimate things of late.

While I refused to detail the dreams I had of him in writing, I left vague hints at what occured in them. I knew that dreams of making love to someone you were not married to was severely frowned upon, but I had never been one to follow the rules of society. It seemed, however, that Peeta had been having similar dreams, given the vague details he also shared. Perhaps it was the distance between us that increased our longing, but I couldn't help but wonder what our first encounter would be like after being separated for nearly two months.

In his most recent letter, Peeta wrote of Finnick and his new bride, Annie. Apparently they had met one night back in May and instantly fell in love. General Washington had allowed them two days for their nuptials, but Finnick was expected to return for training after that, which he promptly did, not wanting to have a repeat punishment of lashes for failing to report.

Perhaps it was Finnick's recent marriage that prompted Peeta to be more vulnerable with his desires for the future, but I felt fairly confident that he wanted to propose to me. Since our covert revolutionary efforts were going so smoothly and everything had so easily fallen into place with our transportation arrangements, I finally allowed myself to imagine saying yes. I felt warmth spread through my chest at the thought of being Peeta's bride, and his wife beyond the wedding night.

I imagined living in a little cabin in the forest, near the stream where I taught him how to swim. He would bake and I would hunt. We would go fishing together in Father's canoe. Mother and Prim would visit often, bearing goat cheese, milk, peppermint tea and tales of Lady's mischievousness.

Perhaps we would have children: a daughter with my complexion and his eyes, and a son with his complexion and my eyes. I would teach them how to sneak up on prey and listen to the voices of the forest, and Peeta would teach them how to make those fruit pastries so I would have a never-ending supply of them.

I realized that this was a future I had wanted for a long time now; perhaps since the day Peeta had defended me from those bullies in the town square. The details of this future had flitted through my mind from time to time over the years, but I had never paused them long enough to really study and accept them. Now, I was finally admitting to myself that this was a future I desperately wanted.

XXX

The next morning I spent in the forest, as usual. I thought for the hundredth time that we were truly fortunate to be starting this covert business during the summer as game was much easier to hunt. However, I couldn't help he fleeting fear that dashed through my mind as I thought about a New York winter and what that could mean for the army's supplies.

As I was exiting the shade of the trees, I spotted Gale walking toward me from the direction of town. I waved to him in greeting and he waved back.

"Good morning," I said cheerfully when we reached each other.

"Good morning. How did you do?" he asked, gesturing toward my game bag.

"Pretty well," I replied, opening it to show him the pheasants and squirrels I had managed to kill.

"Excellent," he said. "As long as we can keep up this trade, we should get a fair amount of supplies for the army."

"Yes, I was just thinking how lucky we were to have the warm months upon us."

He nodded, but didn't reply. He seemed like he wanted to tell me something, but was hesitating.

"What is it, Gale?" I asked, stopping him with a hand on his arm.

He stopped, but avoided my gaze.

"Nothing," he replied unconvincingly.

"Gale, have you forgotten that I can read you like a book?"

He chuckled lightly before he finally looked at me. "How could I when you are constantly reminding me?"

I rolled my eyes but remained silent, encouraging him to explain what was on his mind.

"Well, I do have some news," he began. "I was promoted to corporal yesterday."

"Gale, that's wonderful. I'm sure you'll do well. Congratulations!"

"Thank you," he replied, but he didn't seem very thrilled.

"There's something else," he continued.

I waited with bated breath.

He sighed somberly. "The British fleet is on its way to New York."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. I should have known this was coming - that things wouldn't be so simple and easy forever, but I was shocked nonetheless.

"How many ships?" I managed to squeak out.

"We're uncertain of the details at this time, but it's believed that the redcoats want to take New York. I imagine they require a high number of soldiers and ships to achieve that," he stated gravely.

I nodded in somber agreement.

"What should we do?" I asked.

"Try to keep trading for supplies, if you can, but, Katniss," he said firmly, gripping my shoulders tightly. "You must be careful. I don't want to imagine what those filthy redcoats would do to you if they caught you supplying rations to their enemies."

"I'll be careful," I replied earnestly. "I swear it."

He nodded after searching my eyes for a moment. "It would be better if you discontinued this business entirely, but I know better than to try to convince you of that."

I chuckled with little humor. "You would not get very far."

He smiled sadly. "I must get back to Fort Stirling, see if there is any more news and prepare for whatever befalls us next."

I nodded in urgent understanding. "Go. And promise me, Gale, that you'll be careful as well."

"I promise."

With that final oath, he hurried away. After he was out of sight, I continued to stand there, trying to absorb and process Gale's news. The fears of all that could happen now that the British were coming swirled in my mind. I supposed Peeta was aware of this news as well, being in close proximity with the news source and General Washington himself. I wondered if our letters would be too risky to send now and had to sadly admit to myself that they most likely were. Perhaps I could send one more letter to him, then all I could do was hope and pray for his safety.

Once I had collected myself, I decided I would still go to the bakery to trade. I might as well continue to transfer the supplies while I still could. I took a deep breath and began making my way into town.

EARLY JULY 1776

Mother, Prim and I had just sat down for supper when there was a loud knock on the door. The three of us looked at each other nervously, our minds instantly assuming the worst since we had received the news that 130 British ships had arrived off of Staten Island.

I calmed myself and steadily rose from my seat to answer the door. I was surprised to find Haymitch on the other side, looking very grave.

"Haymitch?" I questioned.

"Well, don't just stand there, girl, let me in!" he demanded.

Surprised by his urgency, I swallowed back my snarky remark, and obliged by moving aside.

Mother and Prim rose from their seats, sensing Haymitch was not bringing good news.

"The redcoats are on Staten Island," he stated without preamble.

"Yes, we heard the ships had arrived off the coast there," I interjected but Haymitch cut me off.

"I'm not just talking about the ships. The soldiers have left the ships and are now marching on land."

I could almost feel the dread in the air, settling over Mother, Prim and me like a hot, suffocating blanket. It was suddenly a bit difficult to breathe. My thoughts instantly went to Peeta. Would he and the rest of the Continental Army be sent to deal with the redcoats?

"There's more," Haymitch said, interrupting my thoughts. I swallowed thickly.

"The militia there has turned on us. They have openly joined the British and now the Continental soldiers there have fled."

"Traitors…" I practically growled.

"Depends on who you ask," Haymitch stated dryly.

I narrowed my eyes at him to let him know what I thought of his irony.

"You all need to be prepared," he continued, ignoring me. "The British could arrive on Long Island any day now. If I were you, I would continue business as usual, but keep my head down."

"Should we expect to care for soldiers?" Mother asked.

"Only if battle occurs," Haymitch replied.

"Is battle anticipated?"

Haymitch's eyes flicked between the three of us for a long moment before he finally answered, "Yes."

Mother, Prim and I looked at each other uneasily. I could see Mother's jaw clench and then release as she swallowed. I knew this wasn't what she wanted for us, especially since Father died. She wanted to live a peaceful life, performing her healing duties for minor injuries and ailments, but, surely, she had considered that her skills would be required at some point during the war. I certainly had. I could only hope Prim was up to the task as well - and that it somehow kept us all safe.

"One more thing," Haymitch said, pulling an envelope from his pocket. "A letter from Peeta - the last one I'll transfer."

I nodded in understanding and reluctant agreement that halting our writing was safest for all involved.

"I'm going to lay low for awhile, too," he stated, heading toward the door. "You do the same."

He gave me a meaningful look and I understood his meaning. Transporting supplies should stop for now, along with the incriminating letters. I nodded, pushing aside my stubbornness. He looked satisfied and went out into the night.

Without hesitation, I ripped open the letter to find a very short note from Peeta.

_Katniss, _it began, missing the usual "dearest" before my name, revealing the seriousness of the letter.__

____

____

_You may already know, but the British have arrived on Staten Island, adding the once patriotic militia to their numbers. They will be arriving on Long Island soon. I implore you to halt all transportation of supplies to troops at Fort Stirling or in Manhattan as it is much too dangerous now. You could lose your home - or worse - your life, if you are caught. Please inform my Father of this as well as I did not have time to send word to him. ___

____

____

_There is talk that General Washington intends to divide his troops, sending more to Long Island. I feel fairly confident that I will be with them, but I'm finding it difficult to find joy in this considering the circumstances. ___

____

____

_I apologize for not being able to write more, but we have been in a training frenzy since we received news of the British fleet. I hope you can forgive me and, though I shouldn't, I hope that I am reunited with you soon. ___

____

____

_Always, ___

____

____

_Peeta ___

____

____

XXX

A couple of days had passed since Haymitch's news. By then it had spread to Long Island as well, bringing forth the hidden Loyalists who now felt emboldened by the presence of the King's army.

Honoring Peeta's request, I was headed to the bakery to inform Mr. Mellark that the covert operations must cease. I assumed he had heard the news by now about the British troops' arrival in New York, but for Peeta's sake, I would be sure of that.

When I arrived at the back door of the bakery, my game bag filled with pheasants, still wanting to maintain the pretense of trading, I knocked firmly and waited for Mr. Mellark to answer the door.

I was shocked, and didn't do well to conceal it, when Mrs. Mellark threw open the door. Had I gotten the days wrong? Wasn't she supposed to be trading in town today? I tried to recover, but it was too late.

"Weren't expecting me, were you?" she asked, scowling deeply at me.

I tried to recover some semblance of control and replied, "No, ma'am, but that's quite alright."

She scoffed. "You aren't fooling me, Miss Everdeen. I know all about your secret dealings with my husband, set up by my traitorous son, no doubt."

"Excuse-" but she cut me off, her voice rising.

"You foolish girl! You must be as idiotic as my husband! Did you not think I would notice the supplies that went missing? I keep close track of our inventory and I've seen you with that Hawthorne boy." She was leaning closer to me and I instinctively leaned away. "You think you are so clever, but you should have done much better at hiding the loaves of bread you gave him."

I felt shame redden my face. I had thought I was being so careful. I assumed no one had noticed. How very wrong I had been.

"I'm glad the British are finally here, so they can set things right again. They'll rid us of disgusting, traitorous filth like you and your father," she uttered spitefully.

My fury suddenly overtook my senses and before I realized what I was doing, I slapped Mrs. Mellark across the face.

"How dare you?!" I cried, my rage blinding me. "You may speak ill of me all you like, but you can leave my father out of it!"

She looked a bit taken aback at my outburst and recoiled slightly, but wrath was burning in her own eyes.

I plowed on before she had another chance to speak, "And for once in your life, could you think of your son?! Think of what the redcoats' arrival means for him? He could be killed!"

In a deadly, quiet voice she stated, "Then I shall no longer have to carry the shame of having a rebel son."

I stared at her, my mouth falling open yet no words came to mind. It was unfathomable how selfish this woman before me was. In that moment I wondered how in the world she could have borne a son as kind, genuine and gentle as Peeta.

Before I murdered her on her back step, I turned on my heel and stormed away.

XXX

By the time I reached the stream, the coolness of the forest had somewhat quelled my raging fury. However, I couldn't deny that kicking a few rocks and branches on the way hadn't aided as well.

I sat down heavily on the familiar boulder, my head in my hands as I tried to push away the panic that was bubbling in my chest. I had somehow managed to reign it in the past few days, but it seemed that my grip on those reigns was loosening.

Tears sprang to my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. Despite the overwhelming fear of what was to come, I realized that I hadn't cried since Father had died over a year ago. Then, with a sort of ironic chuckle, I realized my tears were mostly for Peeta now. I hadn't even lost him yet and I was already losing control of my emotions.

I couldn't help it, though. I loved him and now I would most likely lose him. Even if General Washington sent him to Long Island with some of the other soldiers, our time together would be very short-lived - that is, if the odds were in our favor. It was very possible we wouldn't see each other at all, depending on when this anticipated battle occurred.

I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths to calm myself as I imagined Peeta and I here at the stream, swimming together, naked and freely. I could see his broad chest, the fine line of dark hair that travelled from his navel to his manhood, which was rigid and eager. I could almost feel his lips on mine before they traversed my neck and eventually, my breasts.

I had never imagined myself having sex, but justified it now with the knowledge that I might not ever experience it, as I couldn't bear the thought of making love with anyone except Peeta. In a moment of clarity and serenity, I suddenly resolved that if Peeta and I met again, I would give myself to him. It didn't matter that we weren't officially married - I felt as married to him in heart and soul as I could be anyway. I didn't need a magistrate or a preacher to make it official, just the confession of our love would be a satisfactory commitment to me. I only hoped that Peeta felt the same.

XXX

A couple of weeks passed yet no redcoats had arrived on Long Island. It seemed they were either remaining on their numerous ships or on Staten Island. I took little comfort in this fact, knowing that they were likely building strength in training and numbers before the eventual strike.

I refrained from writing letters to Peeta, knowing it would not only put me at risk if the British discovered my association with a Continental soldier, but it would risk my family's safety as well. I couldn't bear to put Prim - or even my mother - in danger. It was extremely difficult not to write him, though, since the frequency of my trading had decreased. I obviously couldn't trade at the bakery anymore and I was hesitant to trade with some of the others in town, now that the Loyalists were making themselves known. I couldn't help but wonder how many of them knew I was a rebel. I prayed that the answer was none.

Finally, I received some good news from Haymitch as I traded for rum, though he had also been using the trading as an opportunity to keep me informed on the progression of the war since Gale rarely stopped by now, having been promoted.

As he closed the door behind me in his stockroom, I looked at him expectantly, noticing his eyes seemed a little brighter than usual.

"They did it, Katniss!" he said in hushed excitement, grabbing my shoulders.

"Did what?" I asked, a bit taken aback.

"Declared independence from Great Britain!" He even cracked a slight smile.

"What? How?" I questioned, my voice intoned with hope.

"The Continental Congress drafted a declaration that the colonies are no longer under British rule, as they are now sovereign states. All members of Congress signed it, then ratified it on the fourth!"

Despite my mind insisting that this wasn't much reason to grasp hope, I felt it swell in my chest nonetheless.

"Do you understand what this will do for the revolution?" Haymitch asked, though he clearly had no interest in my answer. He had released me by now and was pacing around the small room in enthusiasm. "This will make the Loyalists reconsider their position, while reaffirming that of the rebels! This will fan the flame of patriotism again!"

"Could this create enough momentum to push the British back out of New York?" I asked.

"I think it will give us a pretty damn good chance!"

I could feel the beating of my heart quicken. "Well, what can I do? Surely, there must be something I can do to help now? We must take advantage of the opportunity this has provided."

Haymitch thought for a moment before he finally replied, "Well, getting supplies from the bakery is no longer an option. What if you shared some of your hunting haul with the troops at Fort Stirling?"

Eager to be of use again and cringing at the thought of continuing to be idle, I said, "I can do that."

Haymitch nodded. "I have a contact there that I think could meet you secretly near the Fort. If I send word to him, could you meet him there?"

"Of course, it's close by. You'll just have to keep me informed on when and where I'll meet him so we don't have another "Mrs. Mellark" incident on our hands."

Haymitch nodded again. "If he agrees, then I will keep you updated on the schedule."

I nodded and stuck out my hand, as if we were conducting a business deal - which I supposed we were in a sense.

He shook my hand firmly.

"Looks like we're back in business, Miss Everdeen. Let's just hope the British get wind of the Declaration of Independence and paddle home to their despicable King before the war becomes any bloodier."

As much as I desired for this outcome, I knew it was naive to believe such a thing. The King and his army were too prideful and greedy to surrender now, Declaration or no.

Nevertheless, a sense of elation had settled over me as I left the tavern, along with a sense of pride over finding another way to aid the revolution. However, the shallow feelings were clouding my judgement and somehow made me forget just how dangerous being a revolutionary could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are really starting to heat up! I can't wait for you all to read the rest of the story!
> 
> Thank you all for your kind words and patience! It is so encouraging and refreshing! I hope you enjoyed the update and stay tuned for more soon :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers! I am so, so sorry for the long wait! I have been working on this chapter a little bit at a time and wanted to make sure it was just right, so I hope you are not disappointed! Things are definitely escalating and I'm excited to write more. I enjoy reading your thoughts, so please leave a review! I truly appreciate them! Until next time, happy reading!
> 
> WARNING: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD!

JULY 1776

_~Peeta~_

As the rest of the Continental Army gathered around the Bowling Green, I could feel the tingle of excitement in the air. The rumors that Congress had written and ratified a declaration of independence from Great Britain had circled its way through our camp. We could only assume that General Washington's reason for gathering us here was somehow related to the rumors.

Finnick, Thresh and I stayed close together amidst the tightly packed gathering of soldiers, murmuring with nervous energy. When General Washington made his appearance, however, we silenced ourselves. I felt my chest tighten as he looked out at all of us solemnly, fearing that our hopes were in vain.

As it turned out, however, the rumors had been true. Washington began to read the Declaration of Independence, his voice steady, loud and full of passion. There was no doubt that this man was a patriot. He read the declaration in its entirety, going so far as to list each man that had signed it, effectively causing the excited tension in the air to finally snap.

Loud cheers and exclamations burst forth from the crowd as hope rooted itself in each soldier's heart. Perhaps this war could still be won, despite the British invasion of New York. Even if we did not survive, the renewed fire in our veins made us believe that we could still defeat the tyrant, King George, and create a nation that was just and peaceful and strong. Even though the ache for Katniss was forever in my heart, the euphoria I felt in that moment swept away my own fears for my life as I imagined a future where she taught our children to hunt and raised them to be strong and resourceful, even without their father.

XXX

Training had maintained a higher intensity since the British fleet had arrived in New York Bay and unloaded its troops onto Staten Island. When we received the news that the militia there had joined their ranks, morale sank lower than it already had with the initial news. Reading the Declaration of Independence to us had been a stroke of genius and I felt a bit guilty for doubting General Washington. Now, morale seemed to be higher than it had ever been, the soldiers bolstering each other's patriotism with their own, the refreshed speed in reloading muskets in training and the overall hope that lingered amongst the campfires and tents.

The cheerfulness helped distract me from melting into a puddle over my longing for Katniss. Not being able to write to or receive letters from her was rather difficult, but I could not bear to risk her safety - or that of her family. I was almost certain that I would be sent back to Long Island soon, but the matter of when was still unknown. All I knew was that General Washington planned to split the army, sending some of us to Long Island while some stayed behind on Manhattan.

Finally, near the end of July, I received the news I had been hoping for: I would be going to Long Island on the first of August. While I felt the warning in my heart that this was not something to be overly excited about, considering that the British would inevitably attempt to take New York at some point, the thrill of seeing Katniss far outweighed the rational part of my mind.

I would finally be able to hold her again, kiss her full lips, touch her smooth skin. I envisioned the perfect moment to finally propose to her: on the beach, at sunset, the warm water, lapping at our feet as we sank into the endless sand. There was no guarantee that she would say yes, but her rejection was something I could not even fathom at the moment.

I fell asleep that night, dreaming of her for the thousandth time, only this time, it was no longer with a melancholy ache, but rather an eager joy that my dream would soon become reality.

AUGUST 1776

As the ferry came to rest in the harbor, it took an impressive amount of self-control to prevent myself from pushing through the soldiers accompanying me and leap onto solid ground. I would see Katniss soon. I would see her radiant smile and hear her laugh. I would feel her soft, womanly curves against the palms of my hands and smell her hair that seemed ever-mingled with the scent of evergreens. I would taste the sweetness of her mouth and be overcome by the promises her kisses held.

I noticed Gale, now Corporal Hawthorne, awaiting us at the pier. Finnick, Thresh and I waved at him and he grinned in response.

¨Glad to have you back on this side of the bay," he said when we reached him, shaking our hands in turn.

¨We are glad to be back," I replied, not putting forth much of an effort to conceal my real motives.

̈ ̈Though, we hope it is not a death sentence," Finnick added.

Gale scoffed slightly, his eyes lowering. "So do I," he murmured.

Though I knew it unlikely, I had hoped in vain that we would be given some leisure time. Instead, Gale directed us to Fort Stirling, where we found other Continental soldiers. I couldn't help but look in the direction of Brooklyn Heights and wonder if Katniss knew I was here yet. I felt confident that I would see her soon - whether I was given permission to leave or had to sneak away.

Unfortunately, the rest of the day didn't allow time for that. After settling into our new camp, we were immediately assigned to various duties. Apparently my reputation for baking had preceded me, and I was assigned to the kitchens again.

That evening, as I finally made my way to my tent, feeling too exhausted to think of anything other than sleep at the moment, I found Gale seated by the fire. He stood up as he saw me approach.

"Good evening," Gale greeted. "I assume you've settled in to your new quarters?"

I nodded and gestured toward the large tent behind him. "Yes, I was just heading there now."

"I was hoping to have a brief word with you before you went to sleep?" Gale asked, though it sounded like more of an order than a question.

A bit surprised by his tone, I felt my heart begin to race. "Of course," I replied.

After we'd put some distance between us and the tightly packed camp, Gale gestured to a nearby grove of trees. I followed him, though hesitantly as I noticed the way his eyes scanned the surrounding area. My mind grappled with thoughts of what he could possibly want to discuss until finally, being in the shelter of the trees, he stated lowly, "I suppose you're wondering why I've led you here."

I nodded, a bit impatiently. My exhaustion was wearing me down and this secretive meeting was not doing me any favors.

Gale seemed undeterred by my demeanor and began, "Being in my new position of authority, I was able to give you tonight. I apologize it isn't more, but I hope it will suffice for now."

Perhaps it was my exhausted mind that hindered me from comprehending his meaning, but I was nevertheless confused.

Instead of clarifying, Gale's eyes flicked beyond my shoulder and a sly look crossed his face. My patience all but gone, I opened my mouth to let him know so, but suddenly a small voice behind me breathed, "Peeta."

The angry words died on my lips as my heart lurched and all the breath left my lungs. I had longed to hear that voice for nearly three months. The amount of times I dreamt I heard it were innumerable.

I swallowed audibly, before turning my head to look at her. She slowly walked into view, the faint moonlight that filtered through the tree branches dancing upon her slender form, the gray of her eyes enhanced by the silver beams.

I had yet to find words when Gale quietly cleared his throat. "I'll take my leave, then."

I didn't even thank him or bid him goodnight, so enamored was I with the vision before me. Katniss finally stopped a few feet away from me, a shy smile gracing her lips.

"Well, say something," she muttered, her eyes darting away from mine.

I chuckled slightly, realizing I must look like a fish out of water. "I just...can't believe you're here. I've dreamt of this moment for so long and now it's finally here, and I'm completely unprepared."

Her smile broadened. "I understand."

We stood there, apart, for a few moments. Though we had each expressed in our letters the longing for physical connection, it seemed a bit bold and awkward now that the opportunity was presenting itself.

The exhaustion gone from my mind and body, I felt a tremor run through me as I soaked in her beautiful appearance and I began to entertain the thought of taking her in my arms. I wondered if she could sense the change as well, for her eyes seemed to darken.

"Katniss," I finally breathed out. "May I kiss you?" I couldn't help the pleading in my tone.

She nodded fervently. "Yes. Please do."

With that, we closed the distance between us. Our bodies pressed against each other and I took her face in my hands to hold her in place, needing to steady her for the foreseen ferocity of the kiss. She willingly opened her mouth to me and our tongues sought each other out, languidly moving against each other. We tilted our heads, exploring new angles in order to deepen our kiss.

I tried to convey everything I felt for her in our embrace: by the way my hands held her face firmly but tenderly, how I reverently suckled her bottom lip as I caught it between my own and even how my evident desire down below was pressed against her.

She let out a small moan of pleasure and I pulled her firmer against me, releasing her swollen lip and moving down to her neck where her slight moans turned into breathy sighs. Before I let myself think of the implications, I gently lowered her to the earth that was strewn about with softened pine needles that had dropped from the boughs sheltering us above.

Katniss did not protest, but instead, opened her knees to cradle me between them as I hovered over her, holding myself up with my arms. I continued to run my mouth and tongue along her neck, the goosebumps on her flesh raising beneath my lips. My hips were also involuntarily pressing more insistently into her, the friction below feeling impossibly good. Judging by the way she arched her own hips, the sensation was pleasurable to her as well.

My mouth continued its trajectory down to her shoulder, and I was suddenly grateful that she wore her father's old hunting clothes and not a dress, for the collar of her shirt was loose on her small shoulders and allowed me to easily slip it further down. Somehow maintaining a sense of modesty, I was sure to not draw too close to her breasts, but I thought perhaps I had still gone too far when she sat up, gently urging me backward with a hand on my chest.

I instantly obliged, fearing that I had overstepped a boundary, but instead she untied the front of the shirt and let it slip down from her shoulders, baring her breasts to me. I settled onto my knees as I drank in the sight of her naked form, the notion of being shy discarded somewhere with her shirt.

Her breasts were fuller than they appeared under her typical loose clothing, the dark peaks pointed toward me, as if they were begging me to ravish them, which I had a sudden urge to do. I leaned forward, glancing at Katniss in permission, but her countenance seemed to match my own desire, for her swollen lips were parted, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were dark as midnight.

I bowed my head slowly, allowing my breath to fan over her chest, which made her own breathing hitch. Feeling emboldened by this, I closed my lips around the tip of her breast, flicking my tongue along her nipple that stiffened further.

The moan of pleasure she released seemed to be directly connected with my cock and I nearly lost myself then, but I swayed my mind back toward pleasing her. I listened intently to the sounds that left her lips, massaging the breast free of my mouth, rolling the nipple with my fingers to draw it out further.

We found ourselves back on the earth, she on her back as I lay beside her, continuing my ministrations. I eventually worked my way to her other breast, while easing my hand down toward the top of her pants. I half-expected her stop me, but as soon as my fingers slipped into them, she opened her legs further, granting me complete access. I could immediately feel the heat emanating from her core, and easily found my way through the soft down between her thighs before encountering the slippery folds.

Amazed at how incredibly wet she was, I gently probed with a single finger until I found her entrance and slipped it inside her, her warm, tight walls, clenching slightly. She let out a breathy moan that seemed to contain my name before placing her hands on my cheeks and pulling my face from her breasts to kiss her passionately on the mouth.

A bit unsure of what was to be done below, I went with my basic knowledge and began to slowly pump my finger in and out. While she didn't seem to mind, she also didn't seem to be getting much pleasure from this. Feeling a bit deflated, I slowly drew my finger out of her, drawing it up her folds as I did so. When I managed to involuntarily rub a certain spot there, she let out a guttural moan and her entire body tensed. I froze, uncertain as to what I had just done.

"What is it?" I asked breathily. "Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head violently, her eyes squeezed shut. "No. Please...do it again?"

All too eager to oblige, I repeated the motion I had done before and this time, felt a small nub beneath my finger. When I touched this, she gasped again. Clearly, I needed more information on the female anatomy, however, this didn't discourage me and I began to caress the nub gently with my fingers, again listening to the sounds she made to guide my motions. It didn't take very long before her entire body suddenly went rigid, her hips arching against my hand, and she moaned loudly before shuddering and sinking into the earth.

I found myself completed fascinated, as I watched her recover from her climax, but my own need for release was rapidly becoming uncomfortable. In fact, I thought if I waited much longer, my pants might rip. I tried to ignore it, however, laying down next to Katniss and stroking her cheek before she slowly opened her eyes.

"That was…" she began, slowly panting, "incredible. I've never experienced anything like that before."

I beamed at her, the moonlight glinting off of her eyes. "I was glad to oblige."

She giggled and shifted, her leg bumping the rod of iron in my pants. Though I tried to muffle it, a short, deep moan left my lips and I closed my eyes tightly. Ignoring this was not going to be an option much longer.

Katniss, however, had obviously noticed and before I even opened my eyes I felt her hands at the ties to my breeches. Though I had intended for all of this to be about her, all selfless thoughts were abandoned and I desperately hoped for relief. Feeling her slender hand on my chest, she gently urged me to lie down, which I obeyed without hesitation.

Once she had my breeches untied, I opened my eyes to see her only briefly hesitate before pulling them down slightly to free my impossibly rigid cock from its confines. I sighed in relief and she met my eyes, smiling slyly. The moment her hand wrapped around me, I knew it would not take long. She must have been educated in basic sex as well, for she seemed to understand the pumping motion, though I did provide some minor guidance, wrapping my hand around hers.

It was less than a minute before I felt myself climaxing, my seed spurting onto her hand that was still wrapped around me and my bare stomach, as I had managed to pull my shirt up at the last possible moment to avoid soiling it. She pumped once more, before removing her hand and wiping it on the earth.

A few moments later, I still panted, her head on my chest moving up and down with each breath. She tilted her head up to rest her chin on my breast and look at me. We smiled at each other, a hint of shyness playing in the corners of her mouth, though it was mostly utter happiness and contentment that I found in her eyes.

"Katniss," I finally said quietly, not wanting to disturb the air of peace and serenity around us.

"Yes?" she whispered back.

"Will you marry me?" I asked boldly, bringing my hand up to push a curl behind her ear and caress her flushed cheek.

Her smile fell as her eyes searched mine. For a moment, I feared that I had completely misunderstood everything and that she did not share the same hopes and desires for the future. However, the fear receded just as quickly as it had come when her face broke into such a broad grin, I marveled that it didn't split her face.

"Yes, Peeta," she said, leaning forward to kiss me deeply before pulling away again. "Yes, I will marry you."

XXX

The next morning, I awoke feeling more rested than I had in my entire life. Not wanting to disturb the peace and euphoria that accompanied waking upon a good rest, I kept my eyes closed a little longer. To my dismay, however, I was required to open them after only a few moments when the bugle sounded in the camp.

Katniss still lay next to me on the earth where we had slept, our limbs entangled, and I was loathe to disturb her, though she began stirring. We had donned the clothing we shed the previous night, finding that even as deep into summer as we were, the nights were still cool.

She finally opened her silver eyes and all of my responsibilities and worries seemed held at bay for a moment, for I was witnessing a rare moment when Katniss looked like an innocent, care-free girl. Her eyes had not yet taken on that hard, determined look and instead looked at utter peace and contentment. When I began hearing the stirrings and voices from the camp, however, I managed to find my way back out of the misty gray depths.

"Must you go?" she asked, tugging on me slightly as I tried to sit up.

"Yes," I whispered, giving her a gentle kiss on the lips. "Unless you want me to get lashes like Finnick did."

She shook her head vehemently. "No, of course not."

"Thank, God," I responded with a slight chuckle. "I don't think I could deny you anything, but that might be rather difficult to oblige."

She smiled softly at my joke and rose from the ground with me.

"I need to go hunting anyway," she began, brushing away the pine needles from her hair.

"You aren't still secretly trading with anyone are you?" I asked, tying my breeches.

Her gaze flitted away from mine and I immediately felt my shoulders tense. I couldn't say I was surprised, but regardless, I knew I wasn't going to like the answer.

"Only with one person," she whispered in reply.

"Who is it?"

She hesitated for another moment. "Peeta, I'm not sure if I should tell you that. It's safer if you don't know."

My original worry for her was turning into frustration. "Katniss, I begged you to stop this! The redcoats could be here any day - hell, they already _are_ here - and you're still involving yourself with the revolution? It's too dangerous, Katniss!"

Her defenses rose to match mine. "You can't possibly expect me to stand by and do nothing when I am fully capable of aiding the patriot efforts!"

I took a breath to try and calm myself. "Katniss, I appreciate your patriotism, I really do, but I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you. Sometimes, knowing that you're safe, is the only thing that helps me to keep pushing on."

Unlike me, she made no effort to calm herself before she said, "Well, have _you_ ever considered that involving myself is the only thing that helps _me_ to keep pushing on while you're away?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but found myself swallowing my words back. All things considered, it wasn't entirely fair of me to expect her to sit idly by and wait for me. If our roles were reversed, I would want to help as well. However, there had to be safer ways for her to get involved. If the redcoats discovered someone was providing game to the Continental Army, they would easily trace it back to her. Unfortunately, there were too many Loyalists in Brooklyn and I feared they would betray Katniss, though many of _them_ had also benefited from her hunting skills.

The sudden swell of voices in the camp brought me back to my present surroundings and told me I needed to leave now if I didn't intend to be publicly punished.

"Katniss, I'm sorry, but I _have_ to go. Please, let's...let's continue this discussion later?" I implored her.

"I don't know what else there is to discuss," she replied quietly, but she folded her arms to indicate she felt anything but quiet about her feelings on the matter.

My entire body deflated and I considered giving her a brief kiss on the cheek, but thought better of it after another quick intake of her body language.

"I'll come to see you soon," I muttered defeatedly.

She at least had the decency to give me a curt nod in acknowledgement, but her cool demeanor was striking compared to the heat of last night.

XXX

I reported for duty with only moments to spare, and was grateful no one here was yet accustomed to my punctuality and, thus, didn't question my prior whereabouts. I managed to make bread with the meager ingredients but, later in the day, realized I couldn't recall making a single loaf, my mind being preoccupied as it was with my disagreement with Katniss. I contemplated it all throughout the day, even through our musket and marching drills, until that evening, when I encountered Gale by my tent again.

Hoping that perhaps he had organized another rendezvous for Katniss and me, I was disappointed when he merely informed me that he wanted me to meet someone. I tiredly obeyed, following him to what I recognized as one of the many officers' tents. Upon entering the tent and seeing who was inside, I straightened in surprise. Seated around a small wooden table were Haymitch Abernathy, a man I didn't know or recognize and General Washington himself. They all turned at our entrance and rose upon seeing us. Feeling a bit unsteady at this formality extended to me, I looked at each face in turn, seeking explanation.

"Sir," Gale began, addressing General Washington. "This is, Peeta Mellark."

"Yes, of course," Washington replied, extending a hand to me, which I firmly shook, hoping that somehow my handshake conveyed the utmost respect. "I have seen you in the camp, though, I must admit, I learned of you first through your talent for baking." He smiled warmly at me and I felt myself relax a bit.

"Well, thank you, sir. I'm just trying to do my part," I replied gratefully.

He nodded in acknowledgement. "I'm sure you're wondering why I've brought you here."

"Yes, sir."

"I will spare you all the minute details, but Corporal Hawthorne has informed of your previous efforts to obtain supplies for the Continental Army. I wanted to thank you personally for doing so. Additionally, I assume you know Mr. Abernathy?"

Haymitch and I looked at each other and we each rolled our eyes.

"We are acquainted," I replied stiffly.

I caught the slight smirk on General Washington's face before he continued, "I understand he has been instrumental in obtaining and transporting supplies as well. Now, this man here," he gestured to the man sitting beside him that I did not know, "is another who has been secretly aiding in similar efforts."

"Cinna," the man stated, shaking my hand as he introduced himself. Though he wore a serious expression, I got the impression, possibly from his eyes, that he was a very compassionate and thoughtful kind of person.

"I have summoned you all here, “General Washington continued. "So that we may discuss further covert transportation of supplies. Now, I understand, Mr. Mellark, that you have a particular, shall we say, _sweetheart_ , that is quite skilled in hunting."

I felt myself blush, but mostly with pride as I replied, "Yes, sir. She is an excellent marksman...or _woman_."

"And I understand she has been supplying the army here?" Washington directed his question toward the other three men.

"That is correct," Cinna replied. "She has been meeting with me secretly to provide game."

Washington nodded. "Right. Well, considering the position of the redcoats and their anticipated attack, we need to reconfigure this secret business."

XXX

We spent most of the night creating a new plan for bringing in supplies that many anonymous people were donating in addition to Katniss. It was decided that Haymitch would continue to go to Manhattan once per week to replenish the stock for his tavern, but would reserve some to give to the Continental Army as well. I could sense a bit of hesitancy in him, but he seemed more confident sitting in Washington's presence and taking direct orders from him.

Cinna, on the other hand, would no longer be trading or transporting at all, but instead would begin spying on the enemy on Staten Island. General Washington seemed to have the utmost confidence in Cinna's ability to provide useful intelligence. This, however, left Katniss with no contact to transport game to, so it was decided that _I_ would be her contact.

General Washington explained that since we were actually courting, it would be less suspicious for us to be caught sneaking around together, when we were _actually_ conducting the secret business. Though, I felt a bit ashamed for thinking that the time spent alone together would probably be taken advantage of in other ways as well - that is, if we resolved our disagreement. Though I felt elated at the prospect of seeing her nearly every day, I recalled her statement to me earlier that it was safer if I didn't know who her contact was. Now, not only did I know Cinna, but I myself would be her contact. This was becoming increasingly dangerous, and while I didn't fear much for myself, I feared greatly for Katniss. This was no longer a matter of convincing her to desist her secret trading - we now had a direct order from General Washington to continue.

As I lay in my cot, trying to manage a couple hours of sleep before reveille, I asked myself for probably the thousandth time, what this war and freedom would cost us.


End file.
